Safe Harbor
by Mizvoy
Summary: J/C Post Endgame. Life goes on, but some relationships are unavoidable. Dauntless/DQ story arc completed!
1. Default Chapter

Disclaimer: Star Trek: Voyager and all things Starfleet belong to Paramount. No infringement intended.  
  
Summary: Another take on the future following Endgame.  
  
  
  
Safe Harbor  
  
Chapter 1: Breakup  
  
Captain Kathryn Janeway had been through long days in the Delta Quadrant, days when she wasn't sure the ship would survive intact, when she couldn't promise that the crew wouldn't perish, when she'd been forced to face failure and keep going anyway, day by day. She'd always had her single goal—to serve her crew no matter what the cost—and that dedication had sustained her through hell itself. She never thought she'd long for those days to return.  
  
The three weeks since their return to Sector 001 seemed like an eternity. She missed having an overriding goal—getting her crew home—and the constants of her ship, her crew, her routine to bolster her flagging faith. Here, she was pulled in a dozen directions at once.  
  
Yesterday, for example, she'd spent the entire day sifting through the most recent evaluations, Chakotay's evaluations, of her Starfleet crew, trying to determine the best fit for their next assignments. She'd faced one hundred eleven recommendations, of which she'd completed maybe a fourth. And, with each one, she felt as if she were sending a member of her family away forever.  
  
Today she had been through a series of impossible meetings starting at 0630. She'd spent the first two hours discussing the Maquis portion of her crew, currently in "protective" custody at a minimum security prison camp in New Mexico. In the settlement of the Dominion War, the Federation had agreed to turn over for prosecution any war criminals who had committed "atrocities" against the Cardassians. They'd gone round and round about Chakotay and his crew. Could they be considered war criminals when their actions took place before the war began? Were their actions "atrocities" or were they simply acts of desperation against an evil and oppressive government? And should they be prosecuted for their open disregard for Federation policies that had ultimately brought on a devastating war? In spite of her impassioned defense of them, nothing was resolved, and she left the meeting with a pounding headache and a dark cloud over her head.  
  
Her brief thirty minute stay in her office had been filled with a communication from Tuvok on Vulcan. The procedure with his family to correct his mental state had hit serious complications caused by the assimilation he'd gone through the previous year, and his recovery was in question. Kathryn had nearly burst into tears, but for the Vulcan's sake she'd managed to keep control of her emotions. She had hoped that Tuvok's situation, of all the unresolved issues she'd faced, would go smoothly. Plus, she felt guilty that his participation in her assault on the Borg had compromised his recovery. He'd ended the communication reassuring her, when she knew she should have been comforting him.  
  
From there, she'd gone to a technical meeting on Voyager's failed slipstream drive. The engineers had discovered evidence of tachyon emissions in the sensor logs, indicating an apparent disruption of the time continuum prior to Admiral Janeway's more recent flouting of the temporal prime directive. They'd discovered Harry and Chakotay's rescue of the ship from a disastrous test of the slipstream drive. "How many times have you relived your future?" they asked her, as if she could answer a question like that. After wrangling for nearly three hours, she'd been ordered to undergo a third psychiatric evaluation to look into her apparent "propensity" to alter time when things didn't work out to her satisfaction. The headache increased and the cloud over her head darkened.  
  
She'd left the meeting in a rush in order to beam to Paris for an audience with the Federation president, an informal dinner reception designed to acquaint President M'Angles with the Federation's modern "Marco Polo." For two hours she fielded the usual questions about the Delta Quadrant, about the wonders she'd seen, about what the Federation's priorities should be if and when regular travel there could be established. She'd been so conscious of the diplomatic demands of her audience that she'd forgotten to eat the elaborate meal prepared for her. She promised herself some soup as soon as possible and took an analgesic for her headache.  
  
She barely had time to change out of her dress uniform when she returned to San Francisco. She attended a blessedly short meeting during which Tom Paris' sentence was officially commuted, the first good news of the day. She wanted to talk to him about his plans for the future, since he wasn't welcome to continue in Starfleet, but his hearing was immediately followed by a long discussion on the EMH's program. She gave Tom a small wave as he left the room.  
  
Starfleet claimed the EMH as their property, much as they had once claimed Data, the android, and proposed decompiling his program for further study. Lewis Zimmerman was his usual abrasive self in demanding that the program be returned to him as the EMH's creator, while the EMH was poignantly dramatic in defending his rights as an individual. Kathryn couldn't help but wish she could download some of her doctor's improved personality into his creator. All this was followed by a shouting match regarding his mobile emitter. Starfleet engineers were convinced that they could replicate the technology if they could just disassemble the device, an idea studied and rejected years earlier by B'Elanna Torres as impossible. She'd concluded, and Kathryn had agreed, that their science simply hadn't reached an appropriate level of sophistication to duplicate the delicate device. The argument over who really "owned" the emitter would not soon be resolved.  
  
Once the meeting ended, Kathryn was escorted to Admiral Hayes' office for an interview concerning Seven of Nine. Seven had been under constant surveillance since their return, even now that she had moved to Sweden to live with her aunt, and Hayes was convinced she was a security risk. "The Borg queen," he reminded her, "often visited her while she underwent regeneration. She's a tool of the collective and not to be trusted." He recounted the numerous times Seven had endangered Voyager and the crew, and although Kathryn defended her actions vigorously, she could tell that Hayes would not be dissuaded. While he didn't threaten Seven directly, Hayes implied that the Federation would soon have Seven in custody for close observation and debriefing, including a restriction on her freedom and possible medical "explorations." Kathryn's blood ran cold.  
  
She left his office exhausted, weak with hunger, and filled with self- righteous fury. As she made her way out of the building, she wished she could show Admiral Janeway what a disaster this early return was for her beloved crew. The Equinox Five, as they were called, had already been charged with capital crimes for their grisly work in the Delta Quadrant; they would probably spend the rest of their lives in prison. The Maquis were under arrest, awaiting possible extradition to Cardassia. Seven of Nine was in danger of dissection. The doctor's future was an unresolved battleground. Tuvok's certain cure had been jeopardized by her own actions with the Borg years earlier. And the rest of her Starfleet crew was being systematically taken from her by reassignment.  
  
She was waiting for the turbolift and rubbing her aching temples when Owen Paris called to her from his office. She reluctantly joined him there, hoping that her former mentor would treat her as Kathryn, not Captain Janeway. Her spirits were low and she needed a friend.  
  
He replicated them both a light supper and a pot of coffee, listening as she filled him in on her few brief trips to visit her mother in Indiana, her efforts to locate a new apartment, her handling of the press and fans who dogged her every public appearance. Once she'd eaten, she felt better, relaxed and ready for a nap, when Paris revealed his true agenda.  
  
The Admiralty had spent the last three weeks pouring over her official logs and had found a series of "questionable" decisions. In the next few days, she should expect to be confronted with these decisions and ready to defend her actions. She'd been waiting for this, of course. She'd known at the time that many of her decisions were marginal, even questionable, but she'd hoped to have at least a few other issues resolved before her own predicament demanded attention.  
  
Paris systematically covered the eight most seriously "flawed" decisions under scrutiny and listened as she explained her thinking to him. As he had so many times in her career, he guided her with pointed questions, helping her understand the issues that were of particular importance to the admirals on the review board, the buzz words to use, the phrases to avoid. The coffee grew cold on the table as they talked, until, at last, Paris announced that they'd done enough, that they'd resume the conversation tomorrow.  
  
Bleary eyed, Kathryn stumbled into the quadrangle as she made her way toward her office building. It was past midnight, and the full moon was a small round disk high in the sky. She stopped in the fragrance of the garden to study the familiar constellations. How she wished she were out there somewhere, anywhere, and away from this red tape. She noticed the flickering lights of McKinley Station, where Voyager was being studied and disassembled, and she felt a wave of remorse and regret wash over her. She toyed with the idea of beaming to the ship, of sequestering herself in her ready room, of filling the tub in her quarters with a bubble bath. She missed her ship and her crew. Her family.  
  
Most of all she missed Chakotay. Reading his familiar writing the day before had reminded her of all the work they'd done together, all the times they'd talked and strategized. She needed a friend, someone to listen to her, to help her think through all this bureaucratic gobbledygook and come up with a reasonable plan of action. How many times in the last seven years had they quietly stepped aside on the bridge for a quick conference, even as the ship was under attack? He would turn his back to the crew, shielding their conversation, and she'd stand close to him and talk quietly. They'd never failed to find a way out of their predicaments, never failed to find common ground, and she needed his help tonight more than ever. She wasn't sure she had the courage to face another day.  
  
Archer Hall was dark, but she managed to find her way to her office, entering without even turning on the lights. She'd taken just a couple of steps when she heard a soft snore and a sigh. A thrill of fear went down her spine until she reminded herself where she was—in the heart of the Federation and the middle of Starfleet headauarters. She thought perhaps her secretary had fallen asleep on the sofa. She called for minimal lights and froze in place.  
  
Sprawled on the sofa in familiar civilian clothing was Chakotay, fast asleep and snoring softly. For a brief moment, Kathryn considered crawling onto the sofa next to him and burrowing into his warm, soft sweater. She could imagine his arms encircling her as she drifted off to sleep, surrounded by his familiar smell and the quiet murmur of his voice, a safe harbor.  
  
Instead, she pulled a blanket out of the closet and draped it over him, taking a PADD out of his nerveless hand that she assumed he'd brought it for her review. He shifted slightly, but didn't awaken, so she settled into the overstuffed chair beside the sofa, snapped on her reading light, and looked at the PADD. Immediately, she was fully awake.  
  
The PADD contained the conclusion of the Maquis issue, one that must have been hammered out since her meeting early this morning. The Maquis were to plead guilty to their prewar insurrection and accept a commuted sentence for their "time served" on Voyager. So much for getting them reimbursed for their work, she thought angrily. As convicted felons, none of them could remain in Starfleet, although they could find gainful employment somewhere in industry, she was sure, but the thought of losing so many of her crew forever brought tears to her eyes. Chakotay, B'Elanna, Ayala, Chell, and nearly three dozen others from her crew would never serve with her again. Neither would Tom Paris, or, perhaps Tuvok. Only she and Harry Kim from the senior staff remained on active duty. The one bright spot of the document was that the Federation would not classify the Maquis as war criminals and would not turn them over to the Cardassians. Such compassion.  
  
"Damn them all," she said, tossing the PADD on the table in anger, forgetting that Chakotay was asleep just inches away.  
  
"You're finally back," he said, his dark eyes fixed on her as he raised himself up on his elbows. "I was afraid you'd go straight home and I'd miss you."  
  
She smiled. "Home? What's that? I've slept right here in this chair most nights. Coffee?" She stood up and made her way to the replicator.  
  
"Tea. I see you've read the settlement."  
  
"Is that what you call it? A settlement?"  
  
He sat up on the sofa and took the tea from her. "I've told you all along, Kathryn, that we weren't afraid to face the music for what we'd done as Maquis. At least . . ."  
  
She cut him off. "If you're going to tell me that at least you won't be in a Cardassian prison, please don't. That wasn't going to happen, Chakotay." She regarded him over the rim of her cup. "You realize that you can't claim your rightful salary for your seven years on Voyager if that time is considered 'punishment.'"  
  
"I never expected to be paid."  
  
She rolled her eyes to the ceiling in frustration. "What are you going to do? You don't even have enough money to buy a ticket to your sister's on Dorvan."  
  
"She already sent me the money."  
  
Kathryn's eyes widened. "You're leaving."  
  
"Tomorrow. Well, actually, in about six hours. I thought about sticking around in case Starfleet wanted to debrief me, but they've made it quite clear that the word of a felon isn't trustworthy." He paused. Kathryn stared at him in disbelief.  
  
She couldn't stop herself from asking, "What about Seven?"  
  
"I talked to her earlier today. She's coming with us."  
  
"Us?"  
  
"All the Maquis are coming with me to Dorvan V. So is Tom Paris. We're going to settle there, see what we can do to help."  
  
She managed to close her mouth and swallow. "Seven is under house arrest," she reminded him.  
  
He smiled. "There are ways to get around that. She's a Federation citizen, after all, and she hasn't been charged with a crime. I'll make sure she leaves too quickly for the legal system to stop her."  
  
Kathryn felt sick to her stomach. She stood up and walked to the huge windows overlooking the gardens and pressed her hands and her forehead against the cool glass. For a moment, she imagined the glass giving way and her body falling through the cool night air until she met with oblivion, with a sweet and permanent release. "At least you came to tell me goodbye."  
  
He stood behind her left shoulder, where he always stood, and she could see the concern on his face reflected in the dark mirror of the window. "I'll never tell you goodbye, Kathryn."  
  
She let her arms fall to her side and leaned back against his solid body, her head against his shoulder, her eyes closed. He could see the myriad emotions on her face in the reflection—grief, longing, fear, loneliness. He realized that he hadn't considered what she'd been through since their return. He could tell she was exhausted, worried, angry. "Yes. I'll see you again," she echoed.  
  
"Do you need me to stay?"  
  
Immediately, she pulled away and turned to face him. He could see tears in her eyes as she studied his face, and he let her see his devotion to her in his eyes. "Dear, loyal Chakotay," she said, smiling sadly. "I once told you that I couldn't imagine a day without you. Remember that? I still can't. Of course I need you to stay. I need you, but, I know that you can't stay here. You can't stay in Starfleet, and I can't leave." She took his big hand in her two small ones. "Go, Chakotay, and be happy. I'm a big girl, you know, and I'll be fine."  
  
"Will you?"  
  
She nodded and dropped his hand, heading for her desk. "I've set up a central mail center so all the Voyager crew can post messages to each other. So there's no excuse not to keep in touch." She keyed up the information and downloaded it onto a PADD, which she studied with undue fascination. "You know, the Maquis group will be the only large portion of Voyager's crew that stays together. I envy you that." She looked up and held the PADD out toward him. "Take care of them."  
  
"You know I will."  
  
They stared at each other across the desk. There was so much that needed to be said between them, so much that was unsettled, and yet there were no easy answers. Tears filled Kathryn's eyes and she looked away. "I can't do this," she said, her voice husky with emotion.  
  
He circled the desk and took her into his arms. She melted into him, hungry for his warmth, his support, his friendship, and he buried his face in her hair. She was still the most fascinating woman he'd ever met, and perhaps the most noble. They were both in tears as they pulled each other close. "You're the best friend I've ever had, Kathryn. You'll always be my friend."  
  
"Me, too," she answered, her voice muffled. They were content to stand there for long minutes, but soon the mixture of exhaustion and overwhelming emotion took its toll, and Kathryn actually dozed off as Chakotay held her.  
  
He looked down at her drooping head and picked her up in his arms, gently placing her on the sofa and draping the blanket over her. She was fast asleep. She looked younger, peaceful, and very beautiful. He knelt beside her and brushed the hair from her face, leaning forward to briefly fit his lips against hers. "I love you, Kathryn. I'll always love you," he whispered.  
  
And then he was gone. 


	2. Loyalty

Chapter 2: Loyalty  
  
Chakotay had always been a sucker for powerful, self-sufficient women. His first lover had been five years his senior, a college girl home for winter break during his freshman year of high school. They'd carried on an intermittent affair until he left for Starfleet Academy at the young age of sixteen. There, he'd met Sveta, the graduate student who mentored him and eventually lured him into the Maquis twenty years later.  
  
His first posting on the Blade Arrow had resulted in an involvement with the female first officer, but it had ended in disaster and taught him an important lesson about the danger of shipboard romances. His years teaching at Starfleet Academy had brought an involvement with Alynna Necheyev, Dean of Faculty and eventual full admiral and chief of operations. In the Maquis there had been Seska, and then, in the Delta Quadrant, Riley Frasier, and Kellen, the woman he couldn't remember except for his written account of their affair, and, eventually, Seven of Nine. All powerful, independent women.  
  
Seven had blossomed in the small community on Dorvan V, fulfilling all the potential Kathryn had seen in her from the beginning. To him, she was Kathryn's daughter, a protégé who unconsciously, perhaps, imitated her mentor. He convinced himself that he loved her and convinced her to marry him a year after their arrival. As beautiful as Seven was, as voluptuous and sweet, it was her independence and strength that spoke to him. He was happy. He was sure he was happy.  
  
But, in a recent conference with a village elder, his confidence had been shaken. The elder studied his face calmly and said, "You have given your heart, Chakotay, but it has not been accepted." He was confused, at first, about her meaning. He was married, after all, and had been for over two years. What could she mean when she said his heart had not been accepted? That night, during his meditation, he had asked his animal guide what the elder had meant, but the silver wolf simply stared at him, and she almost seemed to smile as she panted in the desert heat. Finally, she said, "Your heart knows the answer," and padded away into the darkness.  
  
A few weeks later, he decided to take a few days to attend a leadership conference on Deep Space 9. The keynote speaker was supposed to be Admiral Richard Laramie, a rising star in the Judge Advocate General's office and Kathryn's legal counsel during the hearing and court martial following Voyager's return. Laramie was responsible, according to her, for her exoneration and eventual promotion to admiral. As much as he hated to admit it, Chakotay was jealous of this new man who seemed to be taking his place as her best friend. He hoped to meet him and find out how Kathryn was really getting along.  
  
He hadn't expected her to be with him.  
  
He slipped into the back of the lecture hall after the lights had been lowered. Sitting on the dais at the front were the guests of honor, including Admiral Laramie, and beside him, Admiral Kathryn Janeway. He could hear the people around him whispering about her, speculating about her presence. "Of course she loves him," one woman murmured. "He saved her career. He knows her secrets." The man behind him said, "She's so pretty. She's an ornament for him, a trophy." And then, "She's so petite. How could she intimidate anybody?"  
  
He laughed in spite of himself. Anyone who thought of Kathryn as petite simply hadn't met her in person, hadn't experienced her powerful presence and self-confidence. He found himself staring at her. She had gained a little weight in all the right places, probably by working out on a regular basis at last. He could see the glow of a little grey in her hair, a hint of the glorious white hair the first Admiral Janeway had worn. She wore no jewelry, no rings, no earrings, in compliance with the strictest interpretation of Starfleet protocol, but she exuded power and class and poise. Even from here, from the back of the huge room, he could feel the effect of her charisma, her charm, her incredible intelligence, qualities that had saved them, time and again, in the Delta Quadrant.  
  
He didn't hear a word Laramie said, but he watched Kathryn listen, watched her face and her hands respond to his words. He sensed the connection between them and felt a stab of physical pain in his gut. Why shouldn't she find someone? Why shouldn't she have someone to turn to? How could he be angry if she turned to someone else when he was married and light years away? But the sight of her, of them together, was too much to bear. He stood to leave when he heard her name announced.  
  
Laramie had turned and extended his hand, "Please welcome Admiral Kathryn Janeway."  
  
He sank into his seat, the only one seated as the crowd erupted into a standing ovation, and he closed his eyes, steeling himself as she began to speak. At first, he didn't listen to her words, but drank in the unmistakable, distinctive warmth of her voice. Finally, he opened his eyes and listened to the last words she spoke.  
  
"The most important thing I learned about leadership in the Delta Quadrant was taught me by my crew," she said. "I learned to look at people not as they are or have been, but as they could be. I learned that if I gained their trust and faith, that if I accepted them with all their failings and faults, they would not let me down and they would forgive me for my own shortcomings.  
  
"Some people claim that I'm a hero because I brought a ship 70,000 light years in just seven years, because my ship brought back with it a wealth of information about a previously unexplored region of space. Well. I'm not a hero. I was blessed to be the leader of the best group of people in the universe. A mottled crew, some people think, but no. The blend of Starfleet and Maquis, the touch of Talaxian, Ocampan, even a former Borg drone, made it possible to create a miracle in an impossible situation. I miss them, and I always will.  
  
"As their captain, I only wanted to be what my crew needed me to be. I wanted to do what my crew needed me to do. I wanted to find and give my crew whatever they required for their survival and happiness. I served them. I put them first. I made their needs, their goals paramount. Good leaders do that. They love their crews and serve them, not the other way around.  
  
"You're the leaders in this sector, servants to your people. And with that leadership comes many privileges. 'Rank has its privileges' they say, but the privileges that come with your positions require great sacrifices from you, sacrifices of time, of personal happiness, of personal fulfillment, of life itself, if necessary. Don't be afraid to make the necessary sacrifices. What really matters is that you did the right thing, no matter the cost, no matter the pain. You can live with pain, but you cannot live without faith. You can afford to pay the price of your own happiness if the result is success and happiness for those you serve, those you love. And you must love the people you serve. There is no other way to meet the challenge of leadership."  
  
She stopped talking, and Chakotay buried his face in his hands as she took questions from the crowd. They were, for the most part, the usual questions he faced himself—what was the moment of greatest terror (when the Kazon took possession of the ship), what was the moment of greatest triumph (when Voyager burst into the Alpha Quadrant), what was the strangest thing that happened (when the ship was bent and stretched by an space/time anomaly). He stayed to the end and was shocked by the final question.  
  
"You say you must serve and love your crew," the young woman said. "What do you mean by 'love your crew'?"  
  
Kathryn smiled broadly. "Well, I don't mean the physical act of love, if that's your implication. In fact, a leader must be very careful in that regard. I believe that a Starfleet captain cannot look to his or her crew for physical love." A murmur ran through the crowd. "Yes, that is one of the sacrifices I made," she said wistfully.  
  
"But that means that the love is pure, altruistic, deep, and without a personal agenda. It's the kind of love that cannot be destroyed, that lives on and on. I love Voyager's crew like my family. Unconditionally. Forever. I've promised myself to serve them for the rest of my life, to love them like a parent, like a benevolent despot, until I meet my final days. Would I give my life for them? In a minute. But, that's only fair. I've asked them to risk their lives in trusting me, in following my orders, no matter how demented those orders might have seemed at the time. It's a matter of faith, of trust. I won't let them down."  
  
Following a long ovation, she left the podium and was nearly back to her seat when someone shouted over the applause, "You love the Maquis criminals?" The room fell into complete silence.  
  
Chakotay watched what he called "the captain's mask" slide smoothly into place on Kathryn's face. She peered into the crowd, her blue eyes dark and flashing.  
  
"Who said that?" she demanded. No one responded. It took courage to face an angry Kathryn Janeway; Chakotay could hardly blame the heckler for hiding. She turned and walked slowly back to the podium, gripping it tightly as she worked to calm her fury, to regain control of her raging emotions. Chakotay found that he held his breath. He wanted to hear what she was about to say; he needed to hear it. She looked up into the crowd, and the power of her presence seemed to drain the room of oxygen.  
  
"Please understand. I don't like cowards," she said. "If you ask a question, you should own up to it." She stared at the crowd, looking from face to face, challenging them. "Now, I ask again. Who asked that question?"  
  
A full minute passed before a young man stood up and faced her. "I asked it," he admitted, his voice a whisper. He was young, less than twenty, Chakotay guessed, and this moment would make or break him, would affect every moment of his future. He wanted to warn Kathryn of that, to tell her not to damage him, not to disgrace him. He was tempted to dash to the front of the room to advise her, but there wasn't time.  
  
"Thank you for being honest," she said, gesturing to the young man. She visibly relaxed. "Please come up here."  
  
The man made his way to the end of the row. He walked hesitantly down the aisle and up the stairs, stopping near the podium. Kathryn smiled at him and pointed to her side. "Right here, please." He towered over her, yet she wasn't dwarfed by him. "I don't bite," she teased.  
  
She put her arm around the man's waist, tactile as ever, and faced the crowd. "It isn't easy to ask the hard questions, but somebody has to do it. Somebody has to have the courage to ask the questions we all want answered." She looked up at the man. "What's your name?"  
  
"Brandt Williams. From Chalista V."  
  
"Don't stop asking the hard questions, Mr. Williams. Don't loose the courage." He nodded at her and swallowed visibly. "Now, let me answer your question about the Maquis.  
  
"Leaders will always have dissidents in their midst as well as the true believers. It's easy to serve and love the true believers. They trust you implicitly, because they share your values and your ethics. In an ideal world, all your followers would be true believers. But the ideal world, as you know, doesn't exist, and so we must deal with reality." She was talking directly to the man, looking up at him with the earnest sincerity that Chakotay had seen so often in her face. She would convert this man, he realized, just as she'd converted him, the Maquis, the Equinox Five, and dozens of alien Delta Quadrant races. By the time she finished with him, Mr. Williams would follow her through the gates of hell. She was a builder of faith, not a destroyer, and he felt his heart swell with pride and admiration for his former captain.  
  
"The Maquis were, at first, my dissidents. They had rejected Starfleet protocol and Federation ethics because they had values and beliefs that those organizations could not, or would not, condone. You call them criminals because you look at them from the Federation's perspective. But from their perspective, they could just as easily call the Federation's policies criminal because we didn't act to end the injustice of the Cardassian treaty, to protect innocent victims from Cardassian brutality. That's an important lesson to learn—to look at the situation from the both sides. When I did that, I could understand their reluctance to submit to a Starfleet captain's control.  
  
"I had no right to expect them to follow me, not did I have any obligation to serve them, and I certainly couldn't be expected to love them." She looked at the man until he shook his head in agreement. "Luckily, we had a mutual problem. I had a ship, but I didn't have enough crew to take care of it properly. The Maquis had a crew, but no ship to get them home. And so, we focused on that common problem. The Maquis could have told me to go to hell and retired to the relative comfort of the brig. I would have been honor bound to take care of them to the best of my ability, wouldn't I? They could have been a drain, a hardship to Voyager, perhaps making it impossible for the ship to return home as we did.  
  
"Except for two important things. They were people with noble principles, and they had, in Captain Chakotay, the perfect blend of Starfleet and Maquis sensibilities." Suddenly self-conscious, Chakotay slid lower in his seat and putting his hand over his tattoo, wondering what she was going to say about him, worried that he'd be recognized.  
  
"I was lucky that it was this particular captain I had been sent to capture. Chakotay always saw the elemental, the basics, of any problem and went to it intuitively. He knew that Starfleet and Maquis both adhered to beliefs and principles that served their idea of what was right and good. We simply had to find principles we could both believe in, and we had to have a mutual goal.  
  
"Ultimately, the Maquis had to learn to trust me and accept me as their commander, a Starfleet captain, perhaps the embodiment of all that had made them join the Maquis in the first place. With Chakotay's help at every step of the way, with his example of loyalty and faith, we forged a unified crew with loyalties to us, to the principles we established, to our goal of getting home. They became so much a part of Voyager that I forgot, at times, that they weren't all Starfleet to start with. In my mind, they are Starfleet today."  
  
The room was silent, expectant. "Because of their loyalty and service, I must give the Maquis the same dedication I give the rest of the crew, Mr. Williams. Did I serve them? At all times and to the best of my ability. Did I love them? I did love them, Mr. Williams. I do love them and I always will."  
  
The crowd stood up and cheered, pushing their way out of their seats, into the aisles, and toward the stage. Mr. Williams solemnly shook Kathryn's hand as Admiral Laramie made his way to her side, encircling her waist with his arm and leaning down to whisper something in her ear that brought a wide grin to her face. Chakotay could take no more. Tears in his eyes, he made his way out of the building into the cool evening breeze.  
  
For a while he just walked aimlessly, too numb to think about his roiling emotions. The captain had loved her crew. She'd loved them so much that she'd come back twenty-six years later to save them. She'd known it was a one-way trip, that she would lose her past to give them a better future, but had she known it would be suicide? When the admiral had met Kathryn's relentless determination to destroy the hub, she'd given her life for them. She'd gone to the Borg queen willingly, and with Kathryn's blessing, because she loved them. He found himself in tears for the Admiral Janeway who had died, feeling that somehow he had let her down, that he should've intervened. He realized, too late, that as different as she had been, she was still Kathryn, still his friend.  
  
But, eventually, he had to face the truth. He was a sucker for strong, independent women, and he'd married the one that was perhaps the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen. But all of them paled when compared to Kathryn Janeway. She was the one woman he'd always use as his ideal, and she was lost to him forever. He'd offered her his heart, but she hadn't taken it.  
  
Morose, he found his way back to his room, checked out, and started the long journey back to Dorvan. 


	3. Conflict

Chapter 3: Conflict  
  
Kathryn Janeway stepped off of the transport station and looked around with intense interest at Dorvan V, the planet she had heard so much about from Chakotay and the rest of the Maquis. Behind her, Richard Laramie quietly made arrangements for their baggage to be taken to the local hotel.  
  
"Is it what you expected?" he asked, joining her on the front porch of the transport station.  
  
She smiled at him and shook her head. "I thought it would be much drier. A desert."  
  
"According to the transport operator, this is the rainy season." They started walking toward the hotel, a white adobe building that shimmered in the midday sun. "I thought someone would be here to meet you."  
  
"I didn't tell them exactly when we'd be arriving. I wanted a chance to look around on my own first."  
  
He nodded and let her walk beside him in silence. Kathryn was oddly emotional about her Voyager crew, and he'd learned long ago to let that part of her life alone. She hadn't seen any of these people in six years, but that wasn't really surprising. The trip to Earth took over two weeks and the cost was prohibitive for most people. He and Kathryn had been on DS9 for a conference and had decided to visit Dorvan before heading back to Earth.  
  
"When's the party?" he asked.  
  
"Tomorrow night. Three weddings and four baby showers in less than four hours. Should be fun."  
  
"At least this time they gave you time to get here for the celebrations."  
  
She looked away. He was talking about Chakotay and Seven's wedding, of course, four years earlier. Kathryn had received her invitation just a week before the event and three days after she'd left on a three-month mission into the Beta Quadrant—in the opposite direction. Richard believed they'd done it on purpose, scheduled their wedding and delayed the announcement to prevent her attendance, but Kathryn refused to agree. "Not everyone believes in long engagements," she'd said. They'd never discussed it again, but he knew she still thought about what he'd said.  
  
They settled into their hotel room, ate a leisurely dinner at a local restaurant, and finally decided to have a few drinks at the hotel's crowded bar. Kathryn sat down in the dimly lit room and sipped her wine. "I talked to Tom and B'Elanna. They'll pick us up at 1300 tomorrow."  
  
"Good," he said, taking her hand, "we can sleep in."  
  
She squeezed his hand and smiled, happy, relaxed, and ready to flirt. "Will you let me sleep?"  
  
"I'll try not to wake you up," he joked, enjoying her throaty chuckle. Suddenly she stiffened, her eyes wide. "What is it?"  
  
She didn't answer him, but simply stood up to greet the man walking to their table. "Chakotay. How did you know we were here?"  
  
He laughed and gave her a quick hug. "When B'Elanna said you'd arrived, I knew you'd be here. There's only one decent hotel within a radius of fifty miles." He released her and turned, extending his hand. "You must be Admiral Laramie."  
  
"Richard," he said, rising and shaking hands. "Won't you join us?"  
  
Chakotay glanced at Kathryn. "I won't be intruding?"  
  
"Of course not," she said. "We came here to see you. Where's Seven?"  
  
"She spent the afternoon watching Miral and the miracles while Tom and B'Elanna finalized arrangements for the party," he said. The miracles were what everyone called Tom and B'Elanna's newborn twin sons, Harry and Neelix. "She was so exhausted by the time B'Elanna 'relieved her of duty' (her words, by the way)," he added, his eyes twinkling, "that she went straight to her regeneration chamber. She said she'd see you tomorrow, once she'd recovered."  
  
Kathryn smiled. "I'd probably have a nervous breakdown." She looked around, noticing that the waiters were still busy. "Would you like a drink?"  
  
"Iced tea?"  
  
Kathryn headed for the bar, leaving the two men alone "to get acquainted with each other" while she got Chakotay's drink. Laramie was taller than Chakotay and thinner, but he was powerfully built with long muscles, obviously a one-time athlete. Some ten years older than Kathryn, his hair was totally grey, but his face seemed young, tan, fit.  
  
The two men sat down at the table in uncomfortable silence. Chakotay sensed that Laramie was introspective and aloof, and his attitude seemed distant and superior. He could sense the man's disapproval in every move he made.  
  
"So," Chakotay said, "you're the Judge Advocate General?"  
  
"A glorified judge, really," he replied.  
  
"Don't be so modest. You have a lot of power, I'm sure. You can set policy and decide just exactly how laws will be interpreted. I hear you have the inside track to the Supreme Court."  
  
"I've had some good breaks. It helps to be in the right place at the right time."  
  
"Like being Kathryn's legal counsel. I heard you pulled a lot of strings for that assignment."  
  
Richard heard the criticism in Chakotay's voice. "I'm not an ambulance chaser, if that's what you're implying. I thought her case would be a challenge."  
  
"Plus it was great publicity and a chance to meet the Federation's most recent hero, who just happened to be a beautiful single woman."  
  
"What exactly are you implying, Chakotay?"  
  
"I have friends in SJA," he said. "They said that you pursued her relentlessly. That you had designs on her while you were still a married man."  
  
"My marriage had been over for years," he replied, his anger rising, "and my feelings for Kathryn couldn't be more genuine."  
  
Chakotay just looked away. This was going badly, and he knew he needed to change things or risk Kathryn's disapproval. "I never doubted that," he said.  
  
The tension at the table was palpable as Kathryn put the glass of tea in front of Chakotay. "This is wonderful! I've wanted you two to meet for years."  
  
Richard was furious, hurt, and uncomfortable. He stood up. "Kathryn, I'm tired. I think I'll go to our room and let you two renew your friendship."  
  
Surprised, Kathryn stood and put her hand on his arm. "What's wrong?" she whispered. "Why are you being so rude?"  
  
"Ask him," he replied as he turned to leave. "Good night."  
  
Kathryn stood bewildered as Richard stormed out of the bar to the elevators without so much as a glance over his shoulder. She sat back down and looked at Chakotay. "What happened?"  
  
Chakotay studied his hands as a blush crawled up his neck and onto his cheeks. He couldn't bear to look at the hurt and worry on her face. "I'm sorry, Kathryn. It's my fault."  
  
She sighed. "You might as well let me hear your side of this, Chakotay, because I'm sure I'll hear Richard's. Did you have a disagreement?"  
  
"You could say that." The silence was deafening as she stared at him, waiting for him to continue.  
  
When he remained silent, she frowned. "I haven't seen you in six years. I've looked forward to this, Chakotay. I've missed you terribly. And you start by picking a fight with Richard?" He remained silent. "You don't like him?"  
  
"I don't trust him."  
  
She shook her head in disbelief. "You don't trust Starfleet's Staff Judge Advocate."  
  
"I think he's using you."  
  
"Using me," she echoed, studying his face. "Chakotay, we've been together for nearly six years. I'm no longer the celebrity I once was, and I certainly am not a sweet young thing on his arm." He glanced up at her, and then looked away, clearly uncomfortable. "I think I deserve an honest answer."  
  
He stood up. "I should just leave."  
  
She stood up and blocked his exit, aware of the eyes watching them at the surrounding tables. She hissed, "Will you please sit down?" He swallowed and obeyed; he knew an order when he heard one. When she resumed her seat, she said, "You're just going to leave? The way you left DS9 two years ago? Without even bothering to talk to me?"  
  
He could see the fury in her eyes. "Deep Space Nine?"  
  
"Don't be coy with me, Chakotay. After my speech, when the house lights came up, you stood up in the back of the auditorium, and then you left. Don't say it wasn't you, because I looked for you later that night. You checked out of your room just six hours after you arrived. Six hours. And the only place you went was the opening of the conference in the auditorium. You travel for over two days from Dorvan V, register at the conference, check into a room for six hours, and then spend two more days getting home?"  
  
"Something came up," he whispered.  
  
"What? What came up? B'Elanna said they were surprised when you came back so soon."  
  
He looked around at the rest of the patrons in the bar, all of them pretending to ignore their argument. "This isn't the place to talk. Let's take a walk."  
  
They left the bar by the terrace doors and walked to a gazebo drenched in moonlight. Chakotay took a seat at one end of a bench, and Kathryn sat down at the other end. They were silent awhile, staring at the moonlight sparkling on the nearby fountain, until Kathryn turned to him. "The truth, Chakotay."  
  
He sighed. "What you said in your speech about the Maquis affected me deeply, Kathryn. What you said about a leader sacrificing, serving, loving their crews brought tears to my eyes, because you did all those things and more. I heard what you said about me, about how I helped you, and I felt bad. I know I could've done more. I know I hurt you, disappointed you, let you down more than once. I couldn't face you. I couldn't face the truth."  
  
She looked skeptical. "Are you sure it wasn't because I was with Richard?"  
  
"Richard?" He tried to make his laugh genuine.  
  
She looked at him steadily. "You didn't expect me to remain celibate for the rest of my life, did you?"  
  
He ran his hand through his hair. "Kathryn . . . "  
  
"No, Chakotay, really. You may think that Richard has replaced you as my best friend. I know I worried about that happening to me when you started seeing Seven."  
  
He looked up at her in surprise. "You did?"  
  
"Of course I did. I didn't want to lose your friendship. I needed you. I still need you. Don't I call you regularly? Don't I ask for your advice all the time?"  
  
Chakotay nodded. They did still talk by subspace every few months, and they always seemed to pick up their friendship right where they'd left off. "It was hard to see you with him."  
  
"I know it was. I know it is. It's hard for me to see you and Seven together, too, and I still miss that closeness we had on Voyager. But, I know you'll always be my friend." She scooted over to him and put her hand on his arm. "You promised you would always be my friend."  
  
He covered her hand with his. "I meant that."  
  
"So did I. Richard and Seven will have to accept that."  
  
He looked up at her, suddenly ashamed. "I wasn't very nice to Richard. I accused him of using you, of not being sincere."  
  
"Chakotay, do you really think I could be with someone who was insincere?" She sighed. "Can we start fresh tomorrow? Pretend tonight never happened?" She saw him nod and stood up. "Good. I'm sure Richard will understand why you feel so protective of me. You were, after all, my first officer for seven years. Old habits are hard to break."  
  
They started back toward the hotel. "I'm sorry, Kathryn. I'll make it up to you. I know Richard's considered one of the brightest legal minds in decades, and for good reason. I'm grateful for the way he defended you and the doctor, for the way he short circuited the case against Seven."  
  
"Let's just enjoy this time together. It's been so long, and who knows when we'll all be together again. Please."  
  
"You can count on me," he promised.  
  
Kathryn arrived at the hotel room a few minutes later, only to find Richard working on stack of PADDS. She slipped out of her shoes, took off her jacket, and collapsed on the sofa. When he finally looked up at her, his eyes were cold. "He's protective of me, Richard," she started.  
  
"Protective?" He was still furious. "How long has he been in love with you?"  
  
"That's not it."  
  
"I've been around, Kathryn. The man's in love with you."  
  
"You forget that he's married, Richard, and to a drop dead beautiful blond with big blue eyes and a figure that will knock your socks off."  
  
"He might be married, and she might be beautiful, but he's in love with you."  
  
She stood up. "This is ridiculous. He's sorry he was so confrontational. He spent seven years worrying about me day and night, and he still worries. He doesn't want me to get hurt."  
  
"He's why you won't marry me."  
  
She didn't want to go through the marriage argument again. "Richard, I'm going to bed. Tomorrow you and Chakotay start fresh, okay?" She watched him turn back to his work. "Are you coming to bed?"  
  
"Not now. I want to finish reading this brief."  
  
She watched him for a few minutes, trying to decide what to do, and then she walked over to him and turned his swivel chair so he faced her. "Let's finish this talk first."  
  
He grabbed her arm and gently pulled her to her knees in front of him. "Don't bullshit me, Kathryn. I want the truth."  
  
"He has nothing to do with why I don't want to get married. Our jobs barely leave us time for each other as it is. We spend months apart every year. What we have is what I need. I'm perfectly happy with our relationship the way it is now."  
  
"You've explained all that to me, not that I believe you. Chakotay. I want the truth about Chakotay."  
  
She frowned and looked away, finally sitting down and crossing her legs. "I won't deny that there's always been an attraction between us. Chemistry, they call it. But we've never acted on it, and we won't. He was my first officer, Richard."  
  
"By attraction you mean love." Kathryn didn't answer. "Attraction fades, Kathryn. Love endures. Even after seven years in the Delta Quadrant. And he isn't your first officer any more."  
  
She shook her head. "For seven years, he was a loyal friend, the only person I could turn to and be myself with. I love him like a friend, Richard. And he's married to someone very special to me."  
  
Richard reached down and put his hand beneath her chin, lifting her face so he could look into her eyes. "He broke your heart. By marrying Seven he broke your heart, but you're too damned proud to admit it."  
  
She jerked her chin from his hand and stood up, her temper flaring. "I never knew you were such a romantic, Richard. Maybe when you retire you can write romance novels about star-crossed lovers and unrequited love."  
  
"If you could choose him or me. If Seven disappeared and he was free. Who would you chose?"  
  
She rolled her eyes, unwilling to play his games. "Goodnight, Richard."  
  
She closed the bedroom door behind her, quickly stripped, and pulled on her gown. Exhausted and emotionally overwrought, she crawled into the bed and buried her face in her pillow so Richard wouldn't hear her cry herself to sleep.  
  
Hours later, Richard slipped into the bed beside her. Immediately, Kathryn moved to him, as she always did, and pillowed her head on his shoulder. Her voice heavy with sleep, she said, "Please, Richard, let's not fight. I've looked forward to this visit for years, and I can't bear to have it ruined." She lifted her head, even though she couldn't see his face in the dark. "I admit that Chakotay and I have a special, complicated friendship, but that's all it is—friendship. You shouldn't be threatened by it. I love you."  
  
Richard pulled her close. He could tell she'd been crying and felt guilty for spoiling the first night of her reunion with the Maquis. "You're right. I'll start fresh tomorrow with Chakotay, as you asked. I promise."  
  
"Good." She snuggled into his chest and sighed, quickly falling into a deep sleep.  
  
Richard, though, lay awake for hours, remembering the look on Kathryn's face when Chakotay approached the table, one of longing, hope, and unqualified joy, and he wished that, just once, she would look at him that way. 


	4. Ch 4 Wall of Fame

Chapter 4: Wall of Fame  
  
Chakotay walked up to the apartment door and rang the chime. He could hear classical music playing and could smell fresh coffee, the two components he would always associate with Kathryn Janeway's home. The door opened to reveal Richard Laramie, and Chakotay instinctively stiffened. He knew she and Richard didn't live together and was surprised to find the man here. While the two men had found an uneasy truce because Kathryn demanded it, they still didn't like each other much.  
  
"Chakotay. Kathryn's expecting you, but she's been detained at work." He gestured him in. "Coffee? Tea?"  
  
"Tea would be nice." Kathryn was at work on a Sunday morning. Typical.  
  
Richard headed for the kitchen. "Make yourself at home."  
  
He headed into the living room and looked around. He had never been in Kathryn's apartment and was curious about her décor, about what was important to her. He didn't see a single Starfleet certificate or award, even though she was one of the most highly decorated officers of her time. He spotted a dozen Delta Quadrant artifacts, including a mosaic he'd done for her with rocks from most of the planets they'd visited on their journey. She also displayed a sand painting he'd done on New Earth. The paintings on the wall were by her sister, Phoebe, mostly flowers in vivid colors. Every table's surface was covered with framed pictures of family and friends.  
  
"I wasn't sure what kind of tea you liked, but Kathryn had a couple programmed from her days on Voyager," Richard said, setting a tray on the coffee table. "I warmed up some croissants, too."  
  
"Thanks, I haven't eaten."  
  
"You're welcome." He picked up an athletic bag and walked toward the door. "I was really sorry to hear about Seven. She was a special person."  
  
"Thank you." Chakotay tried to think of something more to say, something to break the formality between them. All he could come up with was, "She was special to all of us."  
  
Richard nodded. He knew Chakotay was referring to Kathryn's special bond to Seven, one that he had never completely accepted or understood. In fact, Seven had been another stumbling block in their relationship. "I have a velocity game this morning," he explained. "Maybe I'll see you later."  
  
"Maybe so. Thanks for the hospitality."  
  
"No problem."  
  
Chakotay relaxed considerably once Richard was gone. Pouring a cup of tea, he sipped it as he studied the pictures. One table was family shots, Kathryn with her parents and sister, her sister and family, a few shots of her aunts and uncles, and so on. He spent awhile studying a picture of Kathryn as a young child, marveling at how little she'd changed over the years, the same sparkle in her eye, the same crooked grin, the same barely restrained energy. Another table was filled with men and women he recognized as her friends, most of them shots with spouses and children included. The mantel held pictures of Voyager's crew, many of them taken by the EMH during what Kathryn called his "shutterbug" period.  
  
Three pictures, though, were turned face down. Curious, he picked up the first one and found a shot of himself and Kathryn in the mess hall. He couldn't remember the exact time it had been taken and probably hadn't been conscious at the time of the doctor's presence. They were in conference, as they so often were, standing close together sharing their thoughts almost by symbiosis. They had reached agreement, he could tell, because she was looking up at him with a satisfied grin, and he was smiling back. It was an intimate moment of friendship and trust. He set it back properly on the mantel.  
  
The second picture was taken during a talent night when she'd convinced him to lampoon themselves on stage. She held an enormous mug, as large as her head, supposedly full of coffee, and he had covered his face with a huge tattoo, reminiscent of Q's caricature of him. He couldn't remember the dialogue they'd used, but recalled that Kathryn's only words had been, "Do it!" The crew had nearly rolled on the floor at their self- satire. He smiled in spite of himself and set that picture up, too.  
  
The last picture had been taken by Kathryn on New Earth and was a solo shot of Chakotay. She had come upon him in the woods while he was meditating and had quietly sat down across from him to wait for him to finish. The surroundings were lush and filled with flowers; he could almost smell the aroma and hear the birdsong from memory. He'd been thinking of her during his meditation, as he did constantly during their exile, and when he'd opened his eyes to see her across from him, his face had lit up with joy. She'd caught that unguarded moment with all its naked emotion. He stared at it, painfully aware of the affection and attachment it revealed.  
  
"Hi." Kathryn stood near the door putting down a satchel filled with work. "See anyone you recognize?"  
  
He smiled a greeting and held up the portrait. "I'd never seen this one before."  
  
She joined him in front of the fireplace and looked warmly at the picture, sliding her arm around his waist. "One of my personal favorites. Richard, however, usually turns it face down."  
  
Chakotay chuckled. "Just my pictures, I notice."  
  
Her head snapped up, but she refused to take the bait. She shook her head and took the frame from him, standing it properly on the mantel. "I'm guessing that's tea," she said pointing at the pot on the table. "Let me get some coffee and we'll talk."  
  
He refilled his mug and sat down on the couch, where Kathryn joined him. "Working on a Sunday morning, Kathryn?"  
  
"Well, I'm teaching a class at the Academy starting next term and I had a few things I wanted to bring home to work on. It's on deep space first contacts."  
  
"I hope I didn't interfere."  
  
"Not at all. I did what I needed to do." She looked around. "Did Richard leave already?"  
  
"He said he had a velocity game."  
  
She sighed and leaned forward to get a croissant. "Just as well, I guess."  
  
"I'm afraid we're never going to warm up to each other, Kathryn. I've tried to get along with him."  
  
"I know you have, and he has, too. But you two may have been doomed from the start. I think he's threatened by our friendship."  
  
"Ah. I can understand that."  
  
She touched his arm, broaching the subject that had brought about his visit. "I'm so sorry I couldn't be there for Seven. Or for you."  
  
"We understood. It all happened so fast, and you were on a deep space mission. Bad timing, that's all."  
  
"How are you doing?"  
  
"Better. It's been six months, and I've had some time to come to terms with her death. It's hard to watch someone you love die."  
  
"Tell me what happened."  
  
He sighed. He knew Tom had written Kathryn about Seven's last days, but he also knew that she needed to hear it again, in person, from him. "The malfunction started so gradually that neither of us noticed it. A stiffness in her hand one morning. An ache in her lower back three days later. Brief moments of double vision. The inability to find the right word. Then, one day she finished regenerating only to discover that she was paralyzed on the left side. I'd gone out to meditate, and when I came back I found her sprawled on the floor of her regeneration chamber.  
  
"We called the EMH, of course, and he had his program transmitted to Dorvan. It didn't take long to figure out that her cortical implant was malfunctioning again. He gave her less than a week." His eyes filled with tears.  
  
"Couldn't you find a replacement?"  
  
"Kathryn, you know there hasn't been a trace of Borg activity since Voyager returned. Besides, Seven would never kill a drone for a replacement, and we knew the implant would have to be 'active' to work."  
  
She put her arm around him, fighting tears. "We should've anticipated this. The first implant lasted only four years. We should've expected that the one Icheb gave her would also malfunction eventually and planned ahead."  
  
Chakotay gave her a weak smile. "We didn't know that, Kathryn. There's no way we could've prepared for this anyway."  
  
"She was too young, Chakotay. I feel so guilty for taking her from the Collective, for shortening her life."  
  
"Don't feel guilty. She said the years she spent as an individual were the best of her life. She would never go back, you know." He took her hand. "She loved you, Kathryn, and appreciated the faith you always showed in her potential. You were like a mother to her."  
  
She brushed tears from her eyes. "How long?"  
  
"She lost consciousness just a couple of days later. She didn't quite make the week. She's buried on Dorvan. All the Maquis attended the ceremony. It was special and touching. She would've loved knowing that they all cared for her."  
  
"Oh, Chakotay! I should've been there. I let you both down."  
  
He smiled at her sadly and pulled her into an embrace, blinking back tears. "You can't be everywhere at once. Besides, your eulogy arrived in time for the memorial service. Everyone thought it was beautiful, just right. You did all you could for her, Kathryn."  
  
She buried her face in his chest and sobbed, grateful for his unusual display of physical affection and support. "I should be comforting you," she mumbled. "And here I am crying like a baby."  
  
A tear rolled down his face. "I'm comforted just knowing how much you care."  
  
"Of course I care." She shifted slightly and settled against him, obviously unwilling to move. "What have you done since the funeral?"  
  
"I just couldn't stay on Dorvan. Everywhere I went, everyone I saw reminded me of her. I've been to Risa, Rigel, Alpha Centauri, and now Earth."  
  
"Maybe you could stick around for awhile? There are always mini- reunions as the Voyager crew passes through headquarters. And you can help me work on my first contact class."  
  
"I'll think about it. I won't get in Richard's way?"  
  
She laughed. "Hardly. The Supreme Court's next session starts tomorrow. He'll be leaving for Paris right after lunch."  
  
"Kathryn, I'm sorry! You should be with him today, not with me!"  
  
"We said our goodbyes before I left for work this morning, Chakotay. In fact, we're so used to being apart that we almost forget to say goodbye."  
  
He shook his head. "You've been together how long?"  
  
She thought a moment. "A little over six years." She chuckled. "But we've probably spent less than half of that together, in reality. I just got back from my deep space mission two weeks ago, and he's already leaving for Paris."  
  
"Is that why you two never married?" When Kathryn blushed and looked away, Chakotay added, "Forget that question. It's none of my business."  
  
"No, that's okay. Marriage is for people who want to spend their lives together. Neither of us is willing to do what it takes to make a marriage work."  
  
"Rumor has it that Richard has asked you, more than once, but that you always say no."  
  
She gave him a crooked smile. "Rumor?"  
  
"It's been a frequent topic of discussion on Dorvan."  
  
"Why is my former crew so fascinated with my personal life?"  
  
"We just want you to be happy," he admitted. She gave him a funny look and pulled away, suddenly uncomfortable. He wondered what he'd said to upset her. Wasn't she happy?  
  
"I'm going to change into something less official," she said, heading toward the back of the apartment as she pulled her rank pips off of her collar. "Make yourself at home."  
  
"Where can I access the communications net?" he called after her.  
  
"Use the computer in my study. It's right through that door."  
  
Kathryn's study was all Starfleet. All of her awards and commendations covered an entire wall, interspersed with pictures of dignitaries and officials shaking her hand or posing with her. Most of her mementos from Voyager's ready room were there along with others added since then. He stood in front of the impressive display in amazement. She'd received every possible award—except the Federation cross, which she'd no doubt get upon retirement—and she'd met everybody who was anybody, and had the picture to prove it. Yet, as far as he could tell, she was the same person he'd always known and . . . well . . . loved.  
  
With a sigh, he went to her desk and activated the view screen. While he waited for his messages to download, he noticed the picture on her desk—Voyager's crew the night they'd celebrated family, the night she'd learned that her personal hero, Shannon O'Donnell, had not been the total success Kathryn had thought she was. He picked up the picture, realizing that the requisite "boyfriend" shot wasn't here. No picture of Richard. Odd.  
  
She appeared at the door in slacks and a soft sweater. "Did you see the 'I love me' wall?"  
  
"Quite a display. I'm surprised you can get your head into a room this small."  
  
She laughed out loud. "I've missed your sense of humor."  
  
While he scrolled through his messages, she pulled open the drapes, letting the late morning sun shine in. He finished quickly, finding little of interest, and watched her. "This is nice," he said, "seeing you in a more relaxed atmosphere."  
  
"Well, I know I was the captain 24/7 on Voyager, Chakotay, but that's over now. I was always a homebody before, believe it or not, and I always enjoyed my life away from work."  
  
"I can believe that," he said, remembering the very different Kathryn he'd seen on Quarren, the way she had so quickly moved in with her lover Jaffen. He walked over to her and turned her to face him, his hands on her arms. "You are happy, aren't you?"  
  
She winced slightly and moved away. "Happiness is overrated."  
  
"You're kidding, right?" When she didn't reply, he decided to risk pursuing it. "What's wrong, Kathryn?"  
  
She was quiet a long time before she started speaking, and even then she refused to look him in the eye. "I promised myself that I wouldn't become the lonely, cold, hard-hearted admiral who came back in time to rescue Voyager, yet I'm afraid that's exactly what's happening. I was conditioned for so many years to deny my emotions and needs that it's become a habit, a way of life."  
  
"You always did put duty above your own happiness. You just have to break the habit."  
  
She felt tears on her cheeks. "I feel like any decision that is based just on my happiness is selfish. I don't feel like I deserve happiness, Chakotay."  
  
He reached up and brushed her tears away with his thumbs, gently cradling her face in his big hands. "If ever anyone in this universe deserved happiness, Kathryn, it's you."  
  
She felt herself crumbling into him. He supported her and led her to the nearby sofa. "I'm so embarrassed," she sobbed, "crying on your shoulder twice in one day."  
  
"First, cry this out, Kathryn. Then, tell me the truth."  
  
She nodded and sobbed into his chest until he could feel the dampness soak through to his skin. Finally, she sat up. "Do you have a handkerchief?"  
  
"I'll get one," he said, heading for the replicator behind her desk. He watched her dry her eyes and blow her nose. "Now. What's wrong?"  
  
"Oh, Chakotay, I'm so unhappy. I travel all the time. So much that I don't feel like I have a real home. I'd love to have a dog, but it would be unfair to leave it here in a kennel most of the time. I'd like to settle down, stay planet side awhile."  
  
"So why don't you? There must be half a dozen jobs you could take right here in San Francisco."  
  
She just looked at him. "That's the real question, isn't it? I could easily transfer to a HQ job, or teach at the Academy, or do some research. All I'd have to do is make a couple of calls to the right people."  
  
"But you haven't done it. Why not?"  
  
She studied her hands. "Richard." She looked up into Chakotay's confused face and smiled. "If I took a desk job, he'd really pressure me to marry him."  
  
"And you don't want to marry him."  
  
"Neither of us is willing to do what it takes . . ."  
  
"I heard all that before, Kathryn, and frankly I don't believe it. What's the real reason?"  
  
She laughed. "You don't mince words. I like that about you."  
  
"I'm lucky you do, or I'd have been in the brig more than once on Voyager."  
  
"You make me face the truth, Chakotay. I've needed to do that."  
  
"And what is this truth you need to face?"  
  
"I don't love Richard enough to marry him."  
  
Chakotay gave her a sympathetic smile. "You've been using your job and its travel requirements as an excuse to keep him at arm's length."  
  
"I think so," she nodded. "And he's been willing to settle for whatever scraps of attention I give him. At least he was until we came to Dorvan last year. Since then, he's been unhappy with my indecision. I think he's given up on me."  
  
"What has he done?"  
  
"I returned two weeks ago from a long deep space mission, Chakotay, but it took him four days to join me here. Not exactly the behavior of a lonesome lover. He claimed the delay was caused by a complicated court case, but I heard the it also involved a female law clerk in his office. She shook her head. "With all these long separations, we've grown apart."  
  
"I'm sorry to hear that. He's been good for you over the years."  
  
She stood up and smiled. "Yes, he has. But, I need to move on. I think I was using him as a crutch." She started for the door, beckoning him to follow. "Having made up my mind makes me feel better already. How about a long walk and a leisurely lunch?"  
  
"With coffee, I suppose."  
  
She took his arm. She knew the next few weeks would be difficult, but she'd survive, especially with Chakotay nearby. She'd survived worse challenges than the end of a love affair. "Lots of coffee." 


	5. Redirection

Chapter 5: Redirection  
  
In the seven years since Voyager's return, Kathryn Janeway had never missed the annual reunion at Sandrine's, the real Sandrine's near Paris, and this year was no exception. The only difference was that this year she came alone, having ended her long-term relationship with Richard Laramie two months earlier.  
  
Nearly seventy of the Starfleet portion of the crew arrived, including Harry Kim and Tuvok, but Kathryn missed the rest of her senior staff—Chakotay, Tom and B'Elanna, even Neelix—not to mention the rest of the Maquis. They had never come to a reunion, and no reunion had ever seemed complete to her because of that.  
  
She made her way toward Harry Kim, now a lieutenant commander on the list for promotion. After the usual pleasantries, she asked him whether he'd decided which position he'd take next.  
  
He smiled at her, glad to have someone he trusted to talk to about the difficult choice. "No, Admiral, I'm still riding the fence. What do you think I should do?"  
  
She gave him a sly smile. "Oh, no, you don't. I'm not going to tell you what to do only to have you blame me later if you're unhappy."  
  
"Damn," he said, smiling back, enjoying their familiar banter. "Maybe I should ask you what you'd do in my position."  
  
"Well, that's different," she said, pulling him aside. "You've been offered the exec position on the Yamamoto, right? A galaxy class starship."  
  
"Yes. The CO is Captain Reynolds, the one who faced down the D'Trixl last year at the Corona Belt."  
  
"I know Frank pretty well. He'd be fair, and you'd learn a lot from him. But you've been a first officer for the last two years."  
  
"On a much smaller ship."  
  
She shrugged. "There isn't much difference. A Galaxy class ship is going to be doing a lot of diplomatic work, hosting conferences, ferrying officials to and from meetings. Pretty routine, really. Your other choice is the center seat of the Cape Good Hope?"  
  
"Yes. Crew complement of eighty."  
  
"Smaller, yes, but it has a much different mission when compared to the Yamamoto. You'd be on the fringes of Federation space doing research and exploring the frontier. Plus," she said, giving him a wink, "there's no position in Starfleet to compare with being the captain of a ship, Harry. Trust me."  
  
"I believe you. Other people have told me the same thing. I just wonder why you didn't take another ship instead of a promotion?"  
  
She closed her eyes. How could she explain it to him? After seven years with the same crew on Voyager, she was unable to see herself on any ship that didn't have her "family" at her side. "Seven years on my own outside Federation space was enough," she said, hoping he'd believe her. "Not that I haven't missed the challenge of command."  
  
"Maybe you should rethink your decision, Admiral. I'd gladly serve as your first officer."  
  
She gave him a long look. "Tempting, Harry, but no dice. I might take a fleet position, but never a ship again."  
  
He seemed disappointed. "That's Starfleet's loss."  
  
"Well, there are capable officers coming up the ranks, Harry. People like you." She slipped an arm around his waist. "Think it through. It'd mean longer separations from Libby and the girls," she reminded him, glancing at his dark-headed wife across the room where she was talking with the EMH.  
  
"Thanks for the advice, Admiral," he said. "I'll let you know what I decide."  
  
"Do that," she said, her voice soft. "But be sure to talk it through with Libby. Command is lonely enough with support from home. It's nearly impossible on your own."  
  
Harry nodded, wondering how she'd managed it all those years in the Delta Quadrant. Kathryn watched him return to Libby's side, and then she began to work the room like a master. She was smiling and gracious, thoughtfully inquiring about the details of the crews' lives, laughing at countless anecdotes, promising to look into new assignments, and committing herself to other celebrations—weddings, christenings, promotion ceremonies—until she had talked to nearly every person in the room.  
  
She was about to take her turn in the annual pool tournament when the EMH approached her. "I thought, Admiral, that you might like to know about the name I've chosen."  
  
Kathryn could barely hide her surprise. "After all these years, I may never get used to the idea of you having a name, Doctor. Tell me what you decided on."  
  
He looked sheepish. "I decided on Edward Mark Holloman."  
  
"E.M.H." She smiled broadly at the irony of it all—a holographic doctor named Holloman. "Nice touch."  
  
"It made sense to me."  
  
"Doctor Holloman. I like it. I can't think of a better choice."  
  
"Thank you. But please, call me Edward."  
  
She laughed and put a hand on his arm. "You'll have to give me some time on that, Edward."  
  
"I understand that you saw the commander recently."  
  
She faltered only slightly. "Yes. You didn't see Chakotay while he was on earth?"  
  
"No. I was on Vulcan at the time at a conference. I was wondering how he was doing since Seven's death."  
  
"He seemed to be adjusting well, although there were moments of sadness, of course. He needs time to come to terms with what's happened." She paused, remembering how much the doctor had cared about the former Borg. "How are you doing, Doctor? You and Seven were close friends."  
  
The hologram seemed genuinely touched that she remembered. "I felt helpless. I wanted so much to find a cure. I thought I was an expert at Borg technology." He shrugged.  
  
"I can understand how you felt, but nothing short of a new cortical implant could have saved her. I'm the one responsible for separating her from the collective, remember?"  
  
The doctor's reply was immediate. "No, Admiral, don't blame yourself. Just before Seven lost the ability to speak, we talked about you. She told me how much she'd come to appreciate all you'd done for her in the Delta Quadrant, all the time you'd spent with her as she grappled with her individuality and humanity. She didn't blame you for what was happening to her, and I know she wouldn't want you to do so either."  
  
"Easier said than done," Kathryn whispered.  
  
She spent the next two hours winning in the pool tournament, as usual, and then, well after midnight, she made her way to the bar, ordered a double scotch, and retreated to a corner booth where she could relax and watch the crew.  
  
"May I join you, Admiral?"  
  
She looked up to find her friend, Tuvok, standing over her. She was always happy to see him, always relieved that his family had successfully cured his illness in spite of the Borg assimilation. Now retired, he'd traveled all the way from Vulcan to attend the party. "Please, sit down."  
  
The Vulcan slid into the seat across from her and eyed her drink. "Scotch?"  
  
She smiled. Tuvok knew she resorted to hard liquor only when she was in emotional turmoil. "Actually," she admitted, "a double scotch."  
  
"I see." He sat quietly, waiting, she supposed, for her to resume the conversation. She wondered when it was that he'd figured her out so completely.  
  
"We had a very good turnout this year, don't you think?"  
  
"Indeed. Nearly half the crew."  
  
"Yes. A big percentage." She took a deep sip of the scotch, closing her eyes as it burned in her throat. "So, why do I keep thinking about the ones who aren't here?"  
  
"The ones we lost?" he asked, "or the ones who never come?"  
  
"Both," she whispered. "We were a family out there, Tuvok. Will we ever be together again?"  
  
He studied her face, knowing what she wanted him to say, yet unable to deceive her. "I believe, Admiral, the odds are against that ever happening."  
  
She looked away, holding up the glass. "And so, the scotch."  
  
"You're still adjusting to Seven's death."  
  
"Seven's death, yes. Plus all the others who never come. The ones we never see."  
  
"Perhaps you should visit them."  
  
"I beg your pardon?"  
  
"Almost every Starfleet crew member has attended a few of these reunions. The only ones who have 'never come' are the Maquis. Perhaps you should visit them."  
  
She took another drink, marveling at the Vulcan's uncanny ability to sense her emotions while repressing his own. "It takes over two weeks to get to Dorvan and the same to come back. Even if I stay there a short time, the trip would take too long."  
  
"You have the leave, I'm sure, and it's much easier for one person to travel so far than to expect thirty two to do so."  
  
She laughed. "A logical response."  
  
"I thought so." He watched her intently. "You're in the process of changing jobs. A perfect time to take some much needed leave."  
  
"I went there a couple of years ago."  
  
"I remember."  
  
"Richard and I were on DS9 for a conference, and we swung by for a long weekend visit." She studied the ice in her glass. "The Maquis were special to me, Tuvok. They chose to follow me. Their loyalty was personal."  
  
"That is true. And half of your senior staff is there."  
  
"Yes, they are. I want to see Miral and the twins. Tom and B'Elanna are so special to me, Tuvok. Chell and Ayala. All the new spouses and children."  
  
"Chakotay."  
  
Kathryn's head snapped up. "Yes. Chakotay, too." She finished the drink. "I miss them."  
  
"You just recently spent several weeks with the commander, I believe."  
  
She smiled weakly. "He was here for awhile. I think he was traveling around the Federation to get over Seven's death. He said Dorvan had too many painful memories right now."  
  
"Harry Kim was very complimentary of the work you did together on the first contact course. He said the holodeck scenarios were especially realistic."  
  
"No one has more deep space first contact experience than Chakotay, you know. Remember how he'd take a shuttle out to forage remote trading posts and likely planets? I never knew for sure that he'd survive, yet he managed to return in one piece."  
  
"I never envied him that assignment, I must admit."  
  
She closed her eyes and tried to relax. She enjoyed talking to Tuvok. He was her oldest friend, and she thought he had observed her closely enough over the years to read her mind. She wondered if he sensed how much she missed her former first officer. "It was good to work with him again. We were a good team."  
  
"Indeed you were. While I initially doubted your choice of Chakotay as a first officer, I must admit that he was a perfect match for you."  
  
He did know. Suddenly she felt exhausted. The scotch must be taking its toll. "A perfect match," she murmured.  
  
"How much leave do you have, Admiral?"  
  
She shook her head and tried to think. "You know how little time off I've taken. I doubt the admiralty would complain if I took an extended leave."  
  
"Then you should do it. Staying longer on Dorvan would make the long trip less of an obstacle."  
  
"But, what about my career!"  
  
For a moment, Tuvok nearly smiled. "You are already an admiral."  
  
She laughed. "You're right, of course. What do I have left to prove?" She could feel her mood rising as she really considered taking Tuvok's advice and spending time on Dorvan. "I'm afraid I'd just be in the way out there." She gave him a long look. "Chakotay and I didn't part on the best of terms."  
  
Her friend raised a delicate brow. "A disagreement?"  
  
"Not really. Not an argument. Just a sudden feeling of discomfort. He pulled away, and I could tell he didn't want to talk about it."  
  
"Humans are very sentimental people. Perhaps he remembered a special event or date that he and Seven had shared. He had lost her just a few months earlier."  
  
Kathryn frowned. "Maybe that was it. He's contacted me since and been quite friendly and kind. I might have imagined it."  
  
"I was hoping he'd stay long enough to attend this reunion. I have not seen him in many years."  
  
She smiled, glad that her two subordinates had overcome their initial animosity to become friends. "I asked him to stay, but he wanted to get back and participate in a new dig on Dorvan IV. The site has ferocious winters, and he said he'd miss the summer dig if he didn't leave when he did."  
  
Tuvok pulled a PADD from his robes. "I saw this news item on my way here tonight. The Dorvan planetary government is considering a petition for full membership in the Federation. Perhaps you could participate on the Federation's membership evaluation team? Would you be more willing to spend the time traveling to Dorvan if you could combine work and pleasure?"  
  
For the first time that night, she felt hopeful. She took the PADD and studied it carefully, imagining what she'd have to do to be appointed to the committee. She had worried about going to Dorvan for no good reason, but, if she were on the Federation team . . . .  
  
"Tuvok, you're a genius. You knew just exactly what I wanted . . . no, what I needed to hear. This actually makes sense." She gave him a crooked grin. "For a Vulcan, you know a lot about human emotions."  
  
"Perhaps, Admiral, I know a lot about Kathryn Janeway."  
  
She laughed, feeling lighter by the moment. She felt great affection for this friend who had been thinking of her happiness. "Tuvok, you know that you are one of my dearest friends."  
  
"The feeling is mutual, Admiral."  
  
"So why don't you call me Kathryn like my other friends do?"  
  
"The use of a first name to a Vulcan suggests an intimacy that exceeds friendship."  
  
"You mean like family?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"I've known you longer than I've known anyone on Voyager. How many years must we be friends before we can reach this first name intimacy?" She sat back and gestured at the crew still partying around them. "This crew is my family, Tuvok, and so are you. We've been to hell and back together. Won't you call me Kathryn?"  
  
"If you wish."  
  
She waited. "So?"  
  
"So, Kathryn, would you like another scotch?"  
  
She smiled, happy to hear him say her name. "No, Tuvok, I'm better now, thanks to you. Why don't you tell me what you've been up to? Have you turned into a counselor for wayward human admirals?"  
  
He did smile slightly. "Just for one admiral in particular."  
  
They talked until the wee hours of the morning, and when Kathryn returned home near dawn, she thought about how she would get herself appointed to the Federation team. It was a logical choice to send her, since she had such a close connection to an important sector of Dorvan's population, and she was certain she could pull the proper strings to make it happen.  
  
She would see all the Maquis again soon. She would be on Dorvan long enough to really reconnect with them and talk to them about their lives. It was important to her that they were happy, satisfied with their lives, and relatively undamaged by their years of exile. She would see Chakotay and make sure that everything was right between them, that their friendship was undamaged.  
  
The sun was up when she crawled into bed, but she went right to sleep for the first time in weeks, slept through most of the day, and woke up happy and cheerful, anxious to start her journey. She always felt better when she had a goal to work toward, when she had a direction and purpose to her life.  
  
Although it was early in the morning in Paris, she contacted Starfleet's chief diplomatic attaché, Admiral Trudeau. "Rene," she said, "I hear that we might be sending a membership committee to Dorvan V. I want to be on it." 


	6. Dorvan V

Chapter 6: Dorvan V  
  
"Harry, give Neelix his ball back or I'll bop you!" Miral ordered as she towered over her brothers with her hands on her hips.  
  
From her perch on the Paris family's patio, Kathryn Janeway laughed and turned to Tom Paris. "I wonder where Miral got her people skills?"  
  
Tom glanced at the back yard where his seven-year-old daughter was playing with his two-year-old twin sons. "She thinks she's their mother. She's as bossy as her mother, anyway."  
  
"Well, she's a natural for command." Kathryn relaxed in the lounge chair and sipped her iced tea. "This is heaven, Tom. You have a beautiful family and a perfect setting here. In many ways, I envy you."  
  
A toddler screamed in frustration, "Miri took my ball. Daddy! Miri took my ball!"  
  
"Miral," Tom chided, "let them work out their own problems or go inside." He scowled. "There are times, Kathryn, that I'd swap places with you in a heartbeat. At least one of them interrupts our sleep every night. They walk right into the bathroom without thinking to knock. You'd be amazed how much territory a wash rag can cover. Yesterday I had to scrape oatmeal off of the kitchen ceiling. I won't even tell you about scooping floaters out of the bathtub."  
  
"Please, stop!" Kathryn was doubled over with laughter. "And I don't even want to know what 'floaters' are in a bathtub."  
  
He laughed with her, but then grew serious. "However, when they're tired and snuggle up with me for a bedtime story, when they look up at me with B'Elenna's big brown eyes, when they come to me for comfort and help, trusting that I know just what to do. . . ."  
  
"I know," she said, interrupting him. "Those times make the other hassles all worthwhile."  
  
"Right."  
  
Kathryn watched the children playing with a wistful look on her face. She'd given up on the possibility of children when Voyager had been flung into the far reaches of the Delta Quadrant, yet there were still times when she longed to hold a child of her own. "I felt the same way about being a ship's captain," she told him. "Not that there's really any similarity."  
  
"I disagree. Parenting is a lot like command. It's just that, on most ships, the captain doesn't rock the senior staff to sleep every night."  
  
She laughed. "No. That wouldn't happen."  
  
"So, what do you think of Dorvan, Kathryn?"  
  
She thought about her three-week stay on the planet. During the first two weeks, she'd met most of the government officials and the command group of the militia. She'd toured their military installations, factories, power plants, and farms, meeting literally hundreds of people. She'd eaten at private homes, restaurants, banquets, and receptions. Everywhere she went, she found an unquenchable attitude of optimism, a willingness to work together for the common good, and an acceptance of outsiders, all of which spoke well for their eventual membership in the Federation.  
  
"I've been impressed, Tom. When you consider how much has been done here since the Cardassians left the planet in shambles, well, it's nearly a miracle. I imagine Dorvan will be given immediate provisional membership."  
  
"I'm glad to hear it."  
  
"The Voyager crew's been instrumental in the progress, Tom. I can see B'Elanna's and Seven's hand in most of the modern facilities."  
  
He nodded. "It helped to have something to focus our energies on after all those years together on Voyager. We'd all worked toward getting home for so long that we needed another goal. Restoring Dorvan filled the bill."  
  
"Some of their innovations are going to be used throughout the Federation, you know. We're going to miss Seven's unique approach to problem solving."  
  
"Yeah. Thanks to her years with the Borg, she brought the experience of thousands of species to every problem."  
  
"It's been wonderful seeing the crew again. Thank you for organizing the reunion for me this last week."  
  
"My pleasure. I like to get together with everyone, too. You know, show off Miral and the miracles."  
  
"Too bad Chakotay couldn't be here."  
  
Tom Paris sensed the barely repressed emotion in her voice and cursed under his breath. Chakotay had returned from earth and headed immediately for the dig on Dorvan IV without talking to anyone. B'Elanna had tried and failed to find out what was on his mind, eventually chalking it up to his continued mourning for his wife.  
  
The dig went well, but when Chakotay realized that they'd need to stay for a second summer season, he'd volunteered to stay behind and keep the delicate survey equipment safe and warm through the bitterly cold winter. Otherwise, the machines would have to be taken by shuttle to Dorvan V and then brought back in the spring, an expensive and time- consuming operation.  
  
The problem was that travel and communication with the dig would be nearly impossible during the next two months. Solar flares, ion storms, and a volatile electro-magnetic atmosphere guaranteed a lonely exile. The planet, once as lush and fertile as Earth, had been devastated centuries earlier by a passing comet. The remains of the city now located at the south pole would be a scientific coup that would insure the team a place in the history books, and Chakotay wasn't about to give up.  
  
Before Tom could reply, B'Elanna burst out of the house. "That Chakotay," she said, boiling with anger. "I told him you'd be leaving soon, Kathryn, but he says he can't leave the dig. The worst of the weather is setting in, and he's afraid that if he left, he wouldn't be able to return and monitor the equipment." She could see the disappointment on Kathryn's face. "He said to tell you he's sorry."  
  
"What about the last supply run?" Tom asked. They had a shuttle full of equipment, food, and power cells to deliver to the dig. "Are we going to be able to get the stuff to him?"  
  
"We've moved the flight up to tomorrow to be on the safe side."  
  
Their conversation was interrupted by a sudden torrent of tears from Neelix, who had rubbed his eyes with a sandy fist. "Looks like the boys are tired," Tom said, getting up from his chair. "I'll put them down for a nap while you girls talk."  
  
Once Tom hauled the squalling boys into the house, the only sound to be heard was Miral singing quietly to herself at the very top of the tree. Kathryn smiled, remembering all of her blissful childhood days in the trees that surrounded her home in Indiana.  
  
"If it's any consolation," B'Elanna said, turning to her former captain, "I don't think he's avoiding you on purpose. He volunteered to do this before we knew you were coming."  
  
Kathryn wanted to agree, but couldn't speak. She was sure her voice would betray her bitter disappointment, so she just nodded and sipped her tea.  
  
"He's always felt guilty about Seven of Nine," B'Elanna continued. "I think he's still coming to terms with her death."  
  
"Guilty?" Kathryn said, echoing her words. "What did he have to feel guilty about?"  
  
"You weren't around them much. I never thought they were well suited for each other."  
  
"As I recall, you and Seven never really got along."  
  
"True enough, but Seven was always so controlled, so methodical, while Chakotay was intuitive and impulsive. She had no interest in his passions—anthropology and history—and barely understood why he bothered with them. She was all technology, a language he could speak, of course, but not on her level. They didn't have much in common."  
  
"Opposites attract."  
  
"Normally, I'd agree, and they were fine when they were focused on the same project or problem."  
  
"I thought they were happily married." Kathryn felt an unease growing in the pit of her stomach. Wasn't this what the admiral had wanted? Hadn't she come back to restore to the couple the happiness Seven's untimely death had denied them?  
  
"Oh, they got along fine. They worked at it. But, she had no interest in his work, and they didn't talk much about the issues that occupied his mind. Chakotay often came to me when he was thinking through a problem instead of turning to her. When I asked him about it, he said that there were some portions of Seven's humanity that she'd never regain." B'Elanna sighed. "He said that he sometimes felt the most lonely when it was just the two of them."  
  
Kathryn frowned. "I don't understand. Seven grappled with thorny issues on Voyager, and she and I often argued about them. Usually in the wee hours of the morning."  
  
"Oh, she discussed issues that were important to her and her work. She just wasn't open to those that didn't weren't of concern to her, things that she deemed unworthy of the effort."  
  
Kathryn chuckled. "I can just imagine what she'd say. 'The issue is irrelevant.'"  
  
"Words to that effect."  
  
"You worked closely with her for years."  
  
"I did, and I came to admire her. But something, an empathy, was always missing. She simply hadn't lived through what most of us do as we grow up. She wasn't someone to turn to in a time of personal crisis because she usually didn't have a similar experience to relate it to."  
  
"Mama! I'm hungry!" Miral swung down from the lowest tree branch and put her fists on her hips. "Isn't it time for lunch?"  
  
"Bossy little thing, isn't she?" B'Elanna laughed. "Honey, can't you see that Mommy's busy talking?"  
  
"Oh, go ahead," Kathryn said, smiling at the little girl. "She's hungry and wants to eat. I'll just sit here and enjoy the weather. We'll finish our talk once she's eaten."  
  
"If you're sure."  
  
"Of course, I'm sure." Kathryn watched the mother and daughter walk into the house and then turned to her thoughts. She'd never considered the possibility that Chakotay's marriage was anything but blissful. Apparently, the couple had been happy together in Admiral Janeway's future, but that was a different time and place and for a much shorter period of time. Perhaps the limited world of Voyager with its common goal of getting home had kept them close, kept them focused on a shared problem.  
  
She could still see the admiral when they'd met in the mess hall and finally joined forces against the Borg. They'd sketched out the basic elements of the plan that eventually got Voyager home, talking well into the night, but once they'd finished, the admiral had lingered. Kathryn knew something was on her mind and waited patiently until the older woman was ready to vocalize it.  
  
The admiral turned away from her, looking out the viewport toward the stars. "I know, Captain, exactly how you feel about Chakotay. I probably know better than you do how you feel."  
  
Kathryn felt a blush crawl up her neck and was glad the admiral wasn't looking at her. "Go ahead," she whispered.  
  
"I know that the news about his involvement with Seven must have shaken you as much as hearing about Seven's death did. That's why I told you, to manipulate you into doing what I wanted you to do." She paused a long time, studying the coffee in her mug. "We've made dozens of decisions that have brought about this result, Captain, decisions that were right, necessary, even imperative for the proper management of the ship and crew. I've learned to live with the consequences of those decisions, and so must you."  
  
Kathryn had nodded. "I understand."  
  
The admiral had turned to face her. "I don't think you do. I don't think you know yourself as well as you think you do."  
  
She had fought back an angry retort. "Is this from memory, or are you trying to manipulate me again?"  
  
"Memory. Up till now, you've always sealed off your feelings for Chakotay. You think you've mastered them, but you've underestimated their power. You think you can stand alone and face any challenge, don't you? You think you're complete within your own skin. The Consummate Captain."  
  
Kathryn had tossed her hair in defiance. "Perhaps you don't remember as clearly as you thought."  
  
The admiral had given her the same crooked smile she'd seen in the mirror a thousand times. "You forget who you're talking to. I may be old, but my memory is fine. I didn't come back to give you 'one last chance for happiness,' if that's what you think. This isn't about you. It's about them." She had swept her arm widely, taking in the whole ship. "There are things you cannot and should not change."  
  
Now it was Kathryn's turn for the crooked smile. "A surprising piece of advice, Admiral, considering that your actions are changing a couple of decades of your past."  
  
The admiral's glare had shocked her back to reality. Dear God, was that the look that made her subordinates snap to attention? "You have no idea how difficult this will be, Captain. Their relationship is already well underway. It's a fact and you must brace yourself to see them together."  
  
Kathryn's eyes had widened in surprise. She hadn't thought of that, of seeing them together, and the thought of it hit her hard. "Go on."  
  
"He isn't being disloyal to you, so don't think that way. He's simply moved on." She gave her younger self a long look, her face softening slightly. "It's what you've wanted him to do."  
  
"Yes." She'd always felt guilty about her inability to reciprocate his obvious affection for her. She'd struggled hard to keep her feelings private, even while she kept their relationship close, but formal. It had been a nearly impossible task at first, but, with time, she'd managed it. "Yes, it is what I've wanted."  
  
"An easy sacrifice to accept when the trip home could take decades, when you couldn't imagine ever being free of all this responsibility. But, Captain, what if you got home tomorrow? Would you be so ready for him to move on?"  
  
She'd found that couldn't even think about it and fought back a burgeoning sense of fear. "I don't know."  
  
"My point exactly," the admiral had continued, sitting down across from her at the table and taking Kathryn's hands in her own. "Don't make the same mistakes I did."  
  
Kathryn had stared at the two sets of fingers and nails, identical except for the older woman's mottled skin and prominent veins. They hadn't touched before, and she was surprised at how cold the admiral's hands were. "What mistakes?"  
  
"I've told you about the fatal away mission and my part in it, but my mistakes started long before that. I let his marriage to Seven damage our friendship. I knew I'd pushed him away, knew I had to do it, yet I couldn't bear to see them together, see them holding hands, see them looking intimately into each other's eyes. I had no choice but to perform the damned wedding ceremony." Her face hardened as she looked at Kathryn. "Don't interfere. Don't make them feel guilty. Seven needs him, and he needs her. Find your strength in knowing that they're truly happy together. Promise me."  
  
Kathryn nodded, a lump in her throat. "I promise."  
  
"Now, listen." The admiral had leaned closer, her face suddenly sympathetic, her eyes kind. She'd squeezed Kathryn's hands with affection. "Do whatever it takes to keep your friendship with Chakotay alive. No matter what decisions he makes, no matter how many arguments you have, even if you suspect that he's deliberately trying to hurt you, swallow your pride, take the blame, crawl to him and beg for his forgiveness. You can't stand alone, and you aren't complete within your skin, Captain. You need him. His presence in your life is the key to your happiness. He balances you, understands you as no one else ever will." Tears filled her eyes. "You don't want to live without him. You can't. Promise me."  
  
Kathryn was shocked by the emotion in the older woman's face and voice, shocked by the implications of her words. Would Chakotay, could Chakotay ever deliberately try to hurt her? "He's dead, isn't he? Your Chakotay's dead."  
  
A tear fell down the admiral's cheek. "A couple of months ago. I always thought we'd patch things up, that we'd be close friends again, but we ran out of time. We'd said and done too many things to each other." She took her hands back, brushed the tears from her eyes with her fingers. "You haven't promised yet."  
  
"I promise."  
  
"Good." She relaxed, looked around the mess hall, studying it, lifting her nose into the air and sniffing. "I can smell leola root."  
  
Kathryn smiled. "There are some odors that seem to permeate solid aluminum."  
  
"You can't smell it on my Voyager any more. I never thought I'd miss it, but I do." She sighed, drained her coffee, and stood up. "It's your crew, Captain, so I'll let you organize them for our mission. The sooner the better, or the Queen will adapt to the future technology."  
  
"Aye, Admiral. Right away."  
  
The older woman had paused and cupped Kathryn's face in her palm, using their given name for the only time in their brief acquaintance. "Whatever your future holds, Kathryn, don't be afraid to be happy. If you get the chance for happiness, grab it with both hands." She'd smiled into the younger woman's face and then left the room.  
  
Now, seven years later, Kathryn sat on the Paris' patio studying her hands, remembering the older identical pair that had grasped hers with such affection. Because Seven and Chakotay had moved away, she hadn't had to watch their love affair blossom the way the admiral had, she hadn't had to perform their wedding ceremony or observe their married life. Instead, she had buried herself in her work. If she'd used her traveling to distance herself from Richard, she'd also used it to insulate herself Chakotay and Seven's marriage. It wasn't coincidence, she realized, that her travels were always away from Dorvan, in the opposite direction. It wasn't by chance that this was only her second visit to the planet in seven years.  
  
But she knew that the distance and the years apart had made it possible for her to retain her close friendship with Chakotay, and that his friendship had sustained her just as the admiral had predicted. Wasn't that why she was here now? To make sure their friendship was still alive? Didn't she still need him as much as ever, maybe more than ever?  
  
"B'Elanna," she said, starting for the kitchen, a plan forming in her mind. "I have an idea." 


	7. Honesty

Chapter 7: Honesty  
  
The blizzard flung ice and snow pellets against the walls of the shuttle hanger, nearly deafening Chakotay as he waited for the last supply shuttle to arrive. He was half frozen from the trek up the trail to the landing pad situated near the top of the hills ringing the dig. The hanger provided relief from the wind, but the building was freezing; he didn't dare remove any of his arctic survival gear and lose precious body heat.  
  
The shuttle was late. He paced back and forth in front of the frosty window, although he knew he'd hear the shuttle before he saw it in the driving snow. The three locator beacons situated on the hilltops were working properly, but, even so, finding the tiny landing pad and maneuvering the shuttle through the wind would be a nerve-racking challenge. If he thought the weather was likely to improve, he'd try to reschedule the delivery, but the storm had been increasing in intensity for the last four days, and he wondered if it would let up before spring.  
  
When he and B'Elanna set the date and time for delivery the day before, he'd forgotten to ask her who'd fly the mission. Usually, Mike Ayala ferried people and equipment between the two planets, but his wife was due to have twins any minute and would probably want him to stay close by. Although Tom Paris was always ready to fly, Chakotay figured B'Elanna herself would come. Their poor connection had kept her from scolding him as much as she'd wanted to.  
  
"Kathryn's been here for three weeks, Chakotay," she'd said. "Don't tell me you couldn't have managed a visit. I think you're avoiding her."  
  
"Why would I want to avoid her? You forget that we just spent time together a few months ago. She understands that duty comes first."  
  
He stopped in front of the window and peered into the white sky. Of course, he had admitted to himself that B'Elanna was right, he was avoiding her. He'd known for weeks that Kathryn was going to be on the Federation's membership team and could've easily arranged to be on Dorvan V when the team arrived. His fellow archeologists had stayed at the camp until just ten days earlier, helping to store the equipment and close down most of the buildings. They didn't need him to be there to finish those tasks. He simply chose not to go. He knew it, B'Elanna knew it, and Kathryn probably knew it, too.  
  
He began to pace again. His decision to come to Dorvan IV had been a thinly disguised effort to run away from his problems. He was hoping to use the solitude of the next two months to resolve his emotional turmoil, to find a livable solution to his complex and frustrating relationship with Kathryn Janeway.  
  
Odd how the mind was able to explain away the real root of one's problems. What was the saying? Philosophers can reason away anything that doesn't fit their version of reality, and he was a master at it.  
  
His trip after Seven's death was a perfect example. He told everyone that he needed time away from Dorvan where they'd lived as man and wife for the last six years, and so he'd meandered through Federation space for several months, arriving on earth just a couple of weeks after Kathryn's deep space mission ended. Coincidence? He thought so at the time, but, in reality, he'd been headed in her direction from the first moment of his trip, like a moth to a flame. She'd want to hear of Seven's death from him, he told himself. Now he admitted that he'd needed to tell her of Seven's death in person and be comforted by her, his best friend.  
  
Another example happened after Kathryn ended her relationship with Richard and sent him off to Paris for good. Chakotay had decided to stay on earth for awhile longer, telling himself that he wanted to reconnect with Voyager's Starfleet crew. He'd spent hours with Samantha and Naomi Wildman, with the Delaney twins and their families, with Harry Kim, and dozens of others who were stationed in or passed through Starfleet HQ. The fact that Kathryn was also there with him, accompanying him to every meeting and reunion, was simply another coincidence. That's what he told himself, of course, but he admitted now that what he'd really wanted to do was reestablish their friendship. He'd spent more time with her than anyone else.  
  
He'd even volunteered to help her set up her new class on deep space first contacts. He told himself that he had more experience than any other crewman on Voyager and that he could help her design the best possible holodeck scenarios for her student's training. All true. But, the work also meant that he'd spend even more time with her. He found himself organizing his schedule around hers, haunting the corridors near her office, fixing their favorite meals so they could work in her apartment late into the night. Working on Voyager's logs reminded him of their close working relationship and their complex friendship, both of which he'd missed more than he cared to remember. That's all he wanted, he told himself. He just wanted his best friend back.  
  
All these delusions had evaporated one Sunday afternoon in Indiana. He'd gone with her for lunch at the family farm where he'd become a frequent and welcome guest. Gretchen Janeway was an excellent cook, and Chakotay enjoyed being in a rural setting for a change.  
  
It was a perfect evening for a long walk. He and Kathryn had gone off together, laughing and talking about the week's events. They ended up on a dock, skipping rocks across a glassy lake. Kathryn was a champion rock skipper, of course, and was determined to teach him the tricks of the trade. She stood at his side and slightly behind him, her left hand on his waist, her cheek against his shoulder, her right arm snaked down his own so she could demonstrate how to hold the flat rock properly in his right hand.  
  
"Think of it as a shuttlecraft skipping off of a planet's atmosphere," she'd instructed him. "It's really a matter of velocity and angle of attack."  
  
"You know my luck with shuttles," he'd joked, turning slightly in her half embrace. Suddenly, they both froze. He became painfully aware of her left breast pressed against his back, her left leg against his thigh, and then he realized that his mouth was just inches from hers, her breath warm on his face, her eyes wide with surprise. He wanted to kiss her. If he leaned forward slightly, their lips would touch. He wanted to pull her body against his, to run his hands through her hair.  
  
"Chakotay?" she'd whispered, the question in her voice bringing him back to reality.  
  
"I'm sorry." He'd pulled away from her and handed her the rock, wondering if she could tell in the golden light of dusk that he was blushing. "I don't think I'll ever be as good at this as you."  
  
She'd studied the rock for a few moments, her eyes sad, and then turned and tossed it into the pond, counting nine skips before it sank under the water. "You just have to relax," she'd explained, "and let it happen."  
  
They'd headed back for the house in an uncomfortable silence. He was terribly embarrassed that he'd crossed the line they'd so carefully maintained in their friendship. He told himself that he'd come to earth for her friendship, not to seduce her, and yet . . . .  
  
Everything had changed, and anything was possible. There was no Voyager to command, no Starfleet protocols to worry about. Seven was gone. Richard was out of the picture. For the first time in all the years he'd known her, a real relationship with Kathryn was possible. The only thing that could stand in the way was Kathryn herself.  
  
And that was the crux of the problem. He didn't know how she felt about him, and he was afraid to find out. He was afraid that she would reject him, only this time it would be personal, not circumstantial. He'd always comforted himself with the knowledge that other commitments and obligations had kept them from following their hearts. He liked to believe that he and Kathryn would've been together years earlier except for extenuating circumstances. But now, if she told him she didn't love him, it would destroy their friendship, he knew that with certainty, and he couldn't lose her friendship. The truth was that he'd rather have a limited friendship with her than lose her in a vain attempt to take their relationship to another level.  
  
And so, when they returned to San Francisco, he deliberately avoided her and quickly made arrangements to join the dig on Dorvan IV. He remembered how surprised she'd been when he'd told her he was leaving, how she'd had tears in her eyes when he told her goodbye. Yes, he'd avoided her on earth, and he'd avoided her now, because he was afraid of her. She had the power to break his heart and crush his spirit with a careless word.  
  
The unmistakable sound of an approaching shuttle brought him out of his reverie. He left the hanger and watched the pilot struggle against the swirling winds, bringing the ship slowly and carefully down for a perfect landing. After the landing, he waited for the interior lights to come up so he could give the pilot a thumbs up before he approached the hatch. Instead, he found himself rooted to the ground.  
  
The shuttle's pilot was Kathryn Janeway.  
  
She smiled and waved, oblivious to his panic, and began to pull on the hood and gloves of her arctic gear. Chakotay strode woodenly to the hatch and keyed his helmet's combadge.  
  
"Welcome to Dorvan IV, Kathryn."  
  
"Some weather you have here," she chuckled. "After a landing like that, I need a drink."  
  
The hatch opened and Kathryn stepped out, only to be pushed into him by ferocious gust of wind. "Watch out!" he warned her, holding her upright. "You're light enough to be blown right off the hillside."  
  
"Chakotay, the cold!" He felt her shiver. "How do you stand it?"  
  
"I don't stand it. I haven't been outside since the rest of the team left, and I won't venture out again once this stuff is unloaded."  
  
She nodded, pushing herself away from him. "We might as well get to work, then."  
  
They offloaded the less critical supplies onto a anti-grav sled and staged it in the hanger, where they could get it later, and then they loaded a larger sled with his critical supplies—power cells and food. He took the lead as they slowly guided the heavy sled down the snow-packed and winding path to the camp.  
  
The path wound its way down the hillside in a series of switchbacks. It was hard work to keep control of the heavy sled as they negotiated the sharp corners. They were both out of breath and exhausted by the time the sled was in the storage section of Chakotay's cabin.  
  
"Shall we bring down the second sled now or wait until morning?" Kathryn asked as she looked around the neatly arranged room. Supplies were carefully organized and labeled, and the expensive and sensitive equipment lined the interior wall.  
  
"I can get it later. Right now, I think you should leave."  
  
For a brief moment, she thought he was angry with her and wanted to get rid of her. "Leave? I thought the plan was for me to stay until tomorrow."  
  
"The weather's worse than I thought it would be when I talked to B'Elanna. You don't want to get stranded here when you're supposed to leave for earth day after tomorrow."  
  
She paused, trying to control her anger. "I think we should bring down the other sled. You can't manage it alone, and I'm not ready to fly in those winds again."  
  
"I can bring supplies down a little at a time, as I need them. Besides, the winds tomorrow might be even worse."  
  
Did he really expect her to just turn around a leave? She pulled off her hood and gloves, shaking her long hair free. "I'm not leaving yet, Chakotay," she said, her eyes flashing. "I'm tired and hungry and I need to use the bathroom."  
  
He sighed. "Okay. We have another hour or so of light. I'll fix you some soup. The bathroom is the second door on the right, through that doorway." He watched her disappear into the living area, and then he maneuvered the sled into position and deactivated the unit.  
  
Kathryn struggled out of the arctic gear jacket and hung it, her gloves, and hood on a hook on the back of the bathroom door. It felt good to get out of the cumbersome top, even though the bathroom was almost as cold as the storage room. She decided to leave on the warm pants and shivered to think of living in such harsh conditions for two months.  
  
She walked out of the tiny bathroom a few minutes later and looked around his living quarters. It looked to be about two-thirds the size of the storage facility and was organized into three distinct sections. She stood in the central third of the space, dedicated to the kitchen, dining, and bathroom. To her right and through an arched opening was a study complete with a tiny desk, a computer terminal, books, and a comfortable reading chair. To her left was his sleeping alcove.  
  
Chakotay, no longer in his arctic wear, stood in front of the replicator and pointed to a bowl of mushroom soup and warm bread on the tiny table. "Dinner is served."  
  
"That was fast."  
  
"You don't have much time. I'm getting you some hot coffee."  
  
"Anything hot." She sat down and spooned the soup into her mouth. "Oh, this tastes good." She ate quietly a few minutes as Chakotay busied himself in the kitchen. "Aren't you going to eat something?"  
  
"I'm not hungry. I ate just before you came."  
  
She stared at him, recognizing the tension in his posture, and was uneasy. Her arrival had caught him by surprise, and he was obviously not happy to see her. Suddenly, she was unsure of herself and a little embarrassed at having come. She struggled to think of something to say, turning, as always, to work. "I think Admiral O'Reilly is going to offer me the slipstream drive project. I'd be heading up the team at Utopia Planetia."  
  
He sat down across from her, pushing a mug of steaming coffee toward her. "That sounds perfect. You said you wanted to stop traveling. Mars is close enough for a daily commute from earth, if you wanted."  
  
She nodded. "I've wondered if Tom and B'Elanna would come work me on the project as contractors."  
  
His grew thoughtful. "They might, although I'd hate for them to leave. Did you ask them?"  
  
"Not yet. I don't really have the job, you know."  
  
"I can't imagine a better person for the project." He smiled at her, and she relaxed slightly when she saw his dimples again. "They'd be crazy not to offer it to you."  
  
She pushed her spoon around in the soup. Usually their silences were comfortable, but this time she sensed wariness in him. "I've wanted to talk to you."  
  
"Why didn't you send me a subspace message? Ayala brings them with every trip. I'd have answered."  
  
"I didn't want to wait for an answer," she admitted. "Besides, I wanted to talk to you in person." If she was going to find resolution to the distance she'd perceived in him, she'd have to work fast. Anyone who'd been married to Seven would have to know how to handle a direct confrontation. "You seemed upset with me when you left earth."  
  
He looked down, suddenly fascinated by the pattern in the table top. "I wasn't upset with you. I just remembered this project and wanted to come work on it."  
  
She frowned, sensing that he was hiding the truth. "But you avoided me for days before you left. And you avoided me when I came to Dorvan V. Why?"  
  
He wasn't ready for this conversation. He'd only just begun to understand his own motivations, and he wasn't ready to defend his actions yet. "I just need time alone, Kathryn. I've been through a lot in the last year, and I want time to meditate, to decide what comes next."  
  
Kathryn chewed her lip with indecision. Should she bring up that electrifying moment at the Martin's pond in Indiana? Should she tell him how many times she'd imagined that he'd kissed her? How often she saw his eyes, dark with restrained passion, when she dreamed? Should she ask him if that moment of attraction been simple male/female chemistry or a remnant of what he'd once felt for her? It seemed to her that everything had changed after that moment, and she didn't know why.  
  
She raised her eyes to find him watching her warily, like a prisoner awaiting torture. This wasn't the time, she realized. She pushed the bowl away from her. "I shouldn't have come. I've interrupted your privacy."  
  
"That's not true. I'm always glad to see you."  
  
"Then why are you so anxious for me to leave?"  
  
"I volunteered for this exile, Kathryn. I don't want you to get stuck here against your will."  
  
She studied his face, trying to decide what was really going on between them. Finally, with a sigh, she stood up and headed for the bathroom. "I might as well get going."  
  
He sat immobilized for a moment, and then began to clean up the dishes. "The winds usually die down for a short while around sundown. It'll be easier to take off than it was to land."  
  
She emerged from the tiny room fastening the front of her jacket. She'd hoped to spend a few relaxing hours with him, to hear about the dig, about his discoveries. "You don't need to see me off. I remember the way, and it's too cold for out there for you to take an unnecessary walk."  
  
"I could bring back some of the supplies in the hanger. Give me a minute to dress."  
  
Kathryn blinked back tears of anger and frustration. "Don't bother," she snapped, pulling on her gloves. "I don't think I'll get lost."  
  
Now that she was actually leaving, he realized he wouldn't see another person for a long time, and he didn't want to regret sending her away with bad feelings. "Don't be angry with me, Kathryn. I'd love to talk to you longer about this new job or anything else. But I know you have important work elsewhere, and I respect that."  
  
She relaxed suddenly, studying his face as if she'd never see it again. "What could be more important than being with my best friend, Chakotay?"  
  
He shook his head, wanting to say that work had always come first with her, work and duty and protocol. Instead, he reassured her. "I'm still your friend, Kathryn, and always will be. I just need time to think."  
  
She stared at the floor, her eyes brimming with tears. "When you need a friend to listen to you . . . when you're ready to talk, call me?"  
  
"You're first on my list."  
  
She nodded and pulled the hood over her head. With a wave goodbye, she let herself into the storage room and then out of the building. The wind had lessened, as Chakotay had predicted, and as Kathryn began the long walk up the hill , she thought about the preflight checklist, the angle of ascent for her departure, anything to take her mind off of the ache in her heart.  
  
Meanwhile, Chakotay stared glassy eyed at the table, suddenly wanting to run out and stop her, to beg her to stay longer. Why hadn't he asked her why she'd come? Had she come just to talk to him about her new job? Or had she come for some other reason? Because she missed him? Because she cared for him? Because she wanted to be with him?  
  
He grabbed his weather gear and began pulling it on quickly. If he hurried, he could catch her before she left. He hadn't even thanked her for coming to see him. He should at least tell her goodbye.  
  
He was pulling on his boots when the rumbling began, a deep roar that shook the building, knocking the mug of coffee onto the floor and spilling books off of shelves. He stood up, holding onto the table for balance, and looked out into the twilight.  
  
"Look at that," he mumbled to himself. The entire southern face of the hillside was moving as the snow let loose at the top and raced toward the valley east of the camp. He knew at once that the heat generated by the shuttle's engines had somehow destabilized the deep snow, creating an avalanche that would cover the path to the shuttle pad and make it impossible for him to move the rest of the supplies to the camp any time soon. Then, his heart was in his throat.  
  
Kathryn was somewhere on that path. 


	8. Exile

Chapter 8: Exile  
  
Chakotay spent his afternoons in the study working on cataloging the artifacts from the dig or reviewing John Kelly's logs from the Mars mission while Kathryn did her second set of rehabilitation exercises in the kitchen and then collapsed on the sofa to recuperate until dinner. She'd needed his help when she'd first left the camp's tiny sickbay, but had managed well on her own following that, and Chakotay knew she needed to feel self- sufficient. He'd even stopped peeking in on her as she worked out.  
  
As always, Chakotay was amazed by her determination and her single- minded dedication to her recovery. He'd seen her break into a sweat with pain as she'd stretched the ligaments in her injured knee or flexed the muscles in her broken arm, and he was fairly certain that she still had headaches from her concussion, but she never complained and never gave herself time off. She was just as dedicated to this as she had been to getting Voyager home.  
  
"I'm not going to get better by sitting around, Chakotay," she'd said when he'd suggested she take things slower. "Besides, it hurts less every day."  
  
Right.  
  
He sat back in his desk chair, listening to her breathe as she walked on the portable treadmill. He still had nightmares about those first frightening moments following the avalanche. He'd burst from his building almost before the avalanche had ended, pulling behind him the body cage filled with first aid equipment, a back board and neck brace, and a tricorder especially calibrated to find bodies in the snow. His first look at the hill, which had been transformed into a lunar-like landscape, had almost made him lose hope. He knew that if she had been on the path beneath the snowfield, she would've been killed instantly by the impact of the avalanche or smothered beneath tons of snow.  
  
He'd decided to start scanning at the bottom of the hill and work his way up. When he'd opened the tricorder to calibrate it, he'd found that she was in the snow banks beneath the cliffs on the west side of the hill, just a few yards from his front door.  
  
It hadn't occurred to him to wonder how she'd gotten there until a few days later. He'd asked her when she'd recovered consciousness, but she couldn't remember anything after landing the shuttle, a typical loss of short-term memory after a concussion. At first, Chakotay thought the force of the avalanche might have pushed her body off of the cliff, but a more careful study of the hill made him realize that something completely different had happened.  
  
Kathryn had jumped off of the cliff. The location of her body indicated that she'd probably taken a running start down the path and had jumped without any idea of the cliff's height or of the depth of the snowdrifts beneath it. He was still amazed at the courage and the sheer nerve such an action represented, yet he'd seen her make dozens of similarly risky decisions on Voyager's bridge. He admired her ability to think on her feet and survive what seemed to be impossible predicaments.  
  
"I think you jumped off the cliff," he said one day, as he helped her walk around the sickbay. "You counted on the snow banks cushioning your fall, didn't you?"  
  
She'd frowned and shrugged her shoulders, squeezing his arm as she leaned into him heavily. "I might have, I don't remember. Whatever I did, I also counted on you being there to put me back together again."  
  
He shook his head, still flattered by the faith she'd had in him. It was typical of Kathryn Janeway to credit him with her rescue, while he blamed himself for her injury.  
  
"You wouldn't have been injured at all if I hadn't insisted that you leave almost as soon as you'd arrived. If I'd just let you finish eating the bowl of mushroom soup, you'd be in perfect shape right now."  
  
She chuckled at that. "Oh, no, you don't. You didn't physically throw me out, did you? And you didn't know the avalanche was about to happen. Except for an accident of nature, I'd have left without any problems. End of story."  
  
He snapped out of his reverie, realizing that while he no longer heard her exercising, he did hear the unmistakable sound of the treadmill being pushed back toward the storage room.  
  
"You shouldn't be doing that, Kathryn," he said, getting up from his chair. He was just stepping into the kitchen when she lost her balance and fell with a crash to the floor. He was there in time to keep the treadmill from crushing her. "You're going to hurt yourself."  
  
"Damn!" she said, rolling onto her back and giving him a look of complete frustration. "I didn't want to bother you."  
  
"I want you to bother me." He leaned the treadmill against the wall. "Are you okay?"  
  
"I'm fine. My knee gave out and I lost my balance, that's all."  
  
Before she could move, he scooped her up and deposited her on the sofa in the lounge on the opposite side of the room. "Stay put until I can check you out with the medical tricorder."  
  
"Yes, sir." She watched his face as he studied the readouts and was relieved when he looked up and smiled at her. "I guess I'm no worse for the wear?"  
  
"No, but, next time, don't tax yourself. Your leg is weak after exercising. Let me put the kitchen back together."  
  
"All right." She wasn't a patient person. In fact, she almost always erred by taking action rather than by standing by doing too little. She'd often left Chakotay on the bridge to wait for repair reports while she'd gone out into the ship to "show the flag," as she put it, to the crew. In reality, she couldn't bear the inactivity. "I guess I just expected to recover more quickly, that's all."  
  
"Next time you jump off of a cliff," he chided her, "do it in San Francisco or Switzerland. Someplace with doctors and a real hospital."  
  
"I'm not complaining," she said, putting her hand on his arm. "You've done wonderfully with limited resources. I couldn't ask for a better nurse."  
  
"Thanks. I think."  
  
"Imagine how long it took to recover from injuries before we had modern medicine." She rubbed her aching knee and gave him a crooked smile. "It used to take bones up to six weeks to heal."  
  
"Yeah. We're lucky." He watched her lean back against the pillows and shivered slightly as he remembered finding her in the snow.  
  
He didn't tell her that she probably wouldn't have survived in those earlier days. She'd been crumpled. That was the best word for it. The left side of her body had taken most of the punishment—a broken arm, three broken ribs, a severely damaged knee, and bruises on her head and face that almost turned his stomach. There'd also been internal injuries, of course, but the biobed had been equipped with a state-of-the-art diagnostic program that told him what he'd needed to do to help her, step-by-step. He'd have to remember to thank the doctor (Edward?) for that.  
  
"Are you ready for some dinner?" he asked.  
  
"I'll help you." She started to sit up, but he put a hand on her shoulder.  
  
"Oh, no you won't. You get some rest. If you're good, I'll let you clean up."  
  
"You're getting awfully bossy, Chakotay," she smiled, her eyes twinkling. "Have you forgotten who's the admiral here?"  
  
"Have you forgotten who isn't in Starfleet anymore?"  
  
When she gave up with just a feeble joke, he knew she must really be exhausted. He decided to take his time and give her a chance to take a much-needed nap. He put on some restful music, methodically cleaned up his desk, rearranged the kitchen, and then fixed their dinner--pasta marinara, salad, and bread. He even programmed the replicator with pecan pie, hoping to entice Kathryn into eating some dessert.  
  
When he returned to the sofa, he found her fast asleep, curled up around one of the throw pillows. He knelt beside the bed and studied her face, trying to decide whether he should just let her sleep through the night on the sofa or if he should wake her up, feed her, and then pour her into bed. She looked beautiful as she slept, a far cry from the battered woman he'd rescued from the snow, and he knew that she needed rest more than she needed food. He pulled the blanket off of the back of the sofa and draped it over her.  
  
He paused, reminded of another night when he'd covered her with a blanket, the night before he and the rest of the Maquis had left earth for Dorvan IV. He'd carried her to her office sofa and had given her a farewell kiss, but she'd been too sound asleep to remember it. He smiled at her and cupped her cheek in his hand, gently running his thumb across her lips.  
  
"'Night," she mumbled, groggy. She snuggled into the pillow with a sigh, not even bothering to open her eyes.  
  
"Goodnight."  
  
Hours later, Kathryn woke up disoriented and tried to figure out where she was. In the weeks since the accident, there were times when she thought she was back on Voyager, times when she thought she was in Indiana, even times when she thought she was on an academy field trip. She sat up and looked around the strange room, trying to place the locations of the lights, the unusual sounds, the unique smells.  
  
Of course. She was on the sofa of the cabin where she'd fallen asleep that evening—before dinner—and now she was starving. Should she replicate some soup to quiet her growling stomach? Should she lie back down on the sofa for the remainder of the night? If she crept back into the sleeping alcove, would she wake up Chakotay? After a quick trip to the bathroom, she stood in front of the replicator trying to decide what to eat when she heard a groan from the sleeping alcove.  
  
"Chakotay?" she said into the darkness. "Are you all right?"  
  
She realized that he was thrashing in his bed, obviously in the grips of a terrible nightmare and she hurried to him, sitting down on the side of the bed, reaching out to gently shake his shoulder. "Wake up, Chakotay. You're having a nightmare."  
  
He shot up in bed, gripping her shoulders tightly, his body drenched in sweat, his face a mask of fear as he looked her up and down. "Kathryn! You're all right? You aren't . . . hurt?"  
  
"I'm fine. See? Thanks to you, I'm getting better every day."  
  
Through all the days and weeks of her treatment and recuperation, Chakotay had never become emotional, never let her see the panic he'd felt when he'd realized the extent of her injuries. He knew she needed him to be steady, calm, and supportive, just as he'd always been during a crisis, and so he'd cried quietly in the shower or run on the treadmill until he was ready to drop rather than burden her with his feelings. But tonight, after a long, tense month, he'd dreamt of finding her broken body in the snow, he'd seen again her terrible injuries, and the emotional reaction could no longer be contained.  
  
"Oh, Kathryn," he sobbed, pulling her into an embrace, burying his face in her hair. "What would I have done without you? How could I have gone on without you?"  
  
She put her arms around him and rubbed his back, trying to soothe him. "It didn't happen, Chakotay. I'm here. I'm fine. You had a bad dream. It was just a dream."  
  
Eventually, he calmed down and followed her into the kitchen where she fixed him a cup of tea to help him relax. "You've had these nightmares before, haven't you?" she asked, sitting down across from him. She remembered several mornings when she'd awakened to find that he'd been up for hours. She'd always found him in the study, nearly exhausted, his eyes haunted when he'd looked up to greet her. "I've always slept through it."  
  
He studied his cup, and then nodded. "More than once, I was sure I'd lose you. I relive those moments in my dreams."  
  
She patted his hand. "Time. With time, the nightmare will gradually stop."  
  
He looked up at her, studying her face, deciding that the time was right to brooch a sensitive subject that had bothered him for weeks. "Why did you come here? Not that I'd enjoy being stuck here with Mike Ayala. The guy snores like a band saw. But, why, Kathryn? Why take the chance?"  
  
She shrugged. "I wanted to see you."  
  
"Sorry, too easy. We've gone years without seeing each other, and we were together for several weeks earlier this year. I deserve the truth."  
  
She blushed and looked away. "I wanted to apologize for my behavior at Martin's pond."  
  
"Martin's pond?"  
  
"In Indiana. The rock skipping?"  
  
"Ah, yes." He felt his heart begin to race. "What did you do?"  
  
"You're kidding. After the way I behaved that day, you withdrew from me. I'd had such fun working with you on the holodeck scenarios. I loved having you around again, this time without all the bother of Voyager, but you seemed avoid me after that day. And then suddenly you decided to leave. I knew it was my fault."  
  
"Your fault?" He couldn't believe his ears. "What did you do?"  
  
She narrowed her eyes. "You were there, weren't you? I crossed the line." When she saw the confusion in his face, she continued. "We've always had limits and barriers in our relationship, Chakotay, and those are what helped us survive seven years in a command relationship. But I ignored them that day when I was teaching you how to skip rocks."  
  
"You did? How?"  
  
"I don't believe this! I put my arm around you. I stood too close to you, pressed my body against yours, held your hand." She stood up, putting her mug in the sink, keeping her back to him. "When you turned and looked at me, I saw panic in your eyes and I knew I'd gone too far. You pulled away and started to avoid me."  
  
He was silent, unable to think of a thing to say.  
  
She turned to face him. "So, I apologize. I won't do it again. I need you to be my friend, Chakotay. I had to make sure we were okay, and I had to do it in person. So I came, and, in spite of everything, I'm glad I did."  
  
He still sat immobile, staring at her incredulously.  
  
"Chakotay?" She sat down across from him again. "Say something."  
  
"You did that on purpose? With the rock? You were flirting with me?"  
  
"Is that so hard to believe?"  
  
He nodded. "Yes. I thought that was behind us."  
  
"It is. From now on, it's behind us, I promise. We're best friends. Period."  
  
He frowned. "I did panic that day."  
  
She blushed again. "I know. I'm so sorry."  
  
"But not because of anything you did, Kathryn. It never occurred to me that you were flirting." He swallowed, and then decided to throw caution to the wind. It was so quiet in the room he knew she could hear his heart hammering against his chest. "I panicked because I wanted to kiss you. Can you imagine crossing that line? I was afraid of what'd you'd do to me if I did. I wasn't sure I could live within those parameters any more, so I ran away rather than face it."  
  
Her eyes were wide with surprise, but now she was the one who was speechless. Was it possible that after all these years he still loved her?  
  
"I did avoid you afterwards, Kathryn, but not because of anything you did. I came here to think about what was to become of me, how I could regain control over my emotions and continue to be your friend the same as always in spite of the sparks we always seem to strike off of each other."  
  
A tear fell down her check. "I would have kissed you back," she whispered.  
  
He leaned forward, unsure of what he'd heard her say. "You what?"  
  
She closed the space between them over the table until their foreheads nearly touched. "I would have kissed you back." Her eyes locked on his, she leaned toward him. "Like this," she whispered, gently brushing his lips with her own. 


	9. Duty

Chapter 9: Duty  
  
"Pardon the interruption, Admiral." Ensign Tim Connor stood half- hidden behind the office's doorjamb. "I thought you might like to know that the transport is scheduled to arrive in less than an hour."  
  
Kathryn Janeway looked up from her computer console and frowned. Was her new administrative assistant actually hiding behind the door? "Thanks for the reminder, Ensign. I was hoping to finish this before it arrived, but . . . ." She noticed that the young man was backing into the darkness as she spoke. "Is something wrong?"  
  
He stopped, embarrassed. "Oh, no, Admiral, nothing's wrong."  
  
She closed her eyes and took a deep calming breath. She wasn't at all surprised by his hesitant attitude after her behavior during the last few weeks. She'd been impatient, demanding, and angry about common problems she usually took in stride. Today, for example, she'd snapped at him when a subspace connection had been interrupted, blamed him for losing a PADD that she'd misplaced herself, and accused him of being in some way responsible for scheduling the monthly family picnic on a particularly inconvenient Saturday afternoon.  
  
"I owe you an apology, Ensign," she said, hoping to repair their frayed relationship. "My behavior's been inexcusable. I promise I'll be better on Monday."  
  
"Yes, ma'am." He withdrew farther. He'd no doubt been warned about petulant, irrational admirals and wasn't about to take her at her word. "Unless there's something else, ma'am, I'll go make sure the new quarters are ready."  
  
"Fine, go ahead. I'll see you at the landing port."  
  
"Yes, Admiral," came a disembodied voice from the front office. "See you there."  
  
"But not if you see me first," she muttered, angry with herself for turning into the kind of difficult admiral she'd always hated. She deactivated her computer and walked to the window to check on the weather: grey skies, bright sun, and a soft, warm breeze, a perfect day on Mars.  
  
She knew her staff blamed her bad moods on her tendency to work too hard, on her long hours, late nights, busy weekends, but she worked fewer hours here than she did when she was commanding Voyager and the pressure was much less intense. They didn't realize that her life had always revolved around her work, and that she could put in vast amounts of time without becoming grumpy and impatient. Because she was an admiral, they made excuses for her, gave her the benefit of the doubt, tiptoed around her as if she were a time bomb.  
  
Somebody needed to stand up to her, to tell her to knock it off, to stop taking her bad attitude out on everyone else. Chakotay had always done it on Voyager, but, of course, he wasn't here, and that was the real root of the problem.  
  
She should have seen this bad mood coming, she realized. She'd always used the excuse of Starfleet protocol to preclude a relationship with Chakotay on Voyager, but she'd also suspected that there was a powerful attraction between them that once loosed would not be denied. He would've been a distraction to her, his proximity a constant temptation for escape, for relaxation, for settling down on some nice blue planet and forgetting about home.  
  
So, why had she thought that things would be different now? The voice of her older self, the Admiral who had brought them home, came into her head. "I know better than you do how you feel," she'd warned Kathryn when they spoke of her affection for Chakotay. Indeed.  
  
She remembered the night, or early morning, of their first kiss. In spite of the constant moan of the wind and the steady pelting of ice and sand on the building, she heard nothing but the pounding of her heart as she pulled away from their light kiss. Chakotay had taken a deep breath, his eyes dark with undisguised passion.  
  
"We should think this through, Kathryn," he'd said. "You'll be leaving in just a few weeks. How will we handle being apart?"  
  
She hadn't wanted to hear it and stood up, settling into his lap and nestling her face into his neck. Six weeks seemed like an eternity to her. Besides, separations were a matter of course for Starfleet officers. Hadn't she spent weeks and months away from her fiancés in the past? "We'll face that when the time comes."  
  
"Even so," he persisted, struggling to keep control of his emotions, "our relationship will be changed forever. Are you ready for that?"  
  
"Chakotay, I've loved you for years, yet I've never allowed myself the pleasure of your touch. This has been inevitable from the first day we met."  
  
"I love you, too." He'd brought his hand up to cradle her cheek, and suddenly everything had seemed clear to her. They had been moving toward this moment for years, step by step, and now, looking back, everything made sense, every event fell into place. She was doing this because she loved him, because she wanted him, because she needed him in her life. This is right, she thought as he kissed her, so right. She was powerless to stop it.  
  
She brought herself back to the present, concentrating on the new team members arriving on the transport. After months of negotiating and beseeching, Kathryn had finally convinced Tom Paris and B'Elanna Torres to join the Slipstream team. They and their three children were being quartered on Mars, so B'Elanna could work with the engineering crew on the orbiting Utopia Planetia facility and Tom could test preliminary designs of a new slipstream ship configurations.  
  
They were arriving just in time to attend the family barbecue in Marin County the next afternoon. Normally, Kathryn looked forward to these informal get-togethers. She loved meeting the spouses and children of her crew and creating a warm sense of community and mutual support for the stressful days that were sure to come as the slipstream project unfolded. She just wished it had not been scheduled for this particular Saturday.  
  
She sighed and headed for her private bathroom where she freshened her makeup. At least with Tom and B'Elanna there, she would feel like she had family of her own at the barbecue. She remembered walking into the party the previous month, a clambake on a white sand beach. She'd arrived a little late, as usual, only to have a young child point at her and comment, "Why does that lady always come by herself? Where's her family?"  
  
The child's mortified mother apologized repeatedly as the night wore on, in spite of Kathryn's assurances that her feelings were not hurt, and that, in fact, she appreciated the boy's honesty.  
  
"He can't imagine," his mother explained, "how anyone could live without a family."  
  
"I can't imagine it, either," she'd replied, smiling down at the boy. "I have a family," she reassured him, "but just not with me right now."  
  
How had she done it, all these years? How had she survived without the love and support of a family? "You think you're complete within your own skin," the admiral had warned her. "The Consummate Captain."  
  
Once, when she'd thought of family, she'd envisioned her parents and her sister. Then, she'd thought of her fiancés, first Justin and later Mark, and their future marriages, the possibility of children. During her years in the Delta Quadrant, she'd viewed Voyager's crew members as her family. She'd loved them maternally, protectively, until they, too, had no longer needed her and had gone on their way. And now?  
  
She studied her image in the mirror as she brushed her hair. She'd been irritable recently, a real pain to her staff, but that would soon change. Once the team was complete, once everyone arrived safely, she'd relax more, feel better about her work, travel less. The job of setting up her team, spread from Earth, to Mars, to Jupiter, had meant that she was often on the move. Now that Tom and B'Elanna were arriving, the teams were in place and fully staffed; Kathryn could truly home base from San Francisco.  
  
She wandered back into her office and stretched out on the sofa, letting her imagination take her to her "safe" place. Once, it had been a lush, green planet, a handmade bathtub, and a chattering monkey. New Earth had been a paradise she'd never forget and one that had sustained her through many years of struggle. But now, she imagined a completely different location. She saw a tiny cabin huddled against unbelievable cold, she saw three rooms that were cozy and warm, she saw warm brown eyes and dimples. If New Earth had been paradise, the "snow camp," as they'd come to call it, had been bliss.  
  
Even when the U.S.S. Redoubt had appeared in orbit over the camp to rescue the admiral, Kathryn refused to let herself think about the emotional impact of what was happening. It would do neither of them any good to become emotional. Neither she nor Chakotay had considered for a moment the possibility of staying together once the winter ended.  
  
Kathryn had her duties to perform as the team leader for the Slipstream drive, an important job, a coveted reward for a long, successful Starfleet career. Chakotay was literally in the middle of an important archeological dig and needed to spend another full summer season to complete it. They knew and accepted the limits on their time together without complaint, as good Starfleet officers would do. Six weeks of togetherness was an unexpected luxury they weren't going to question.  
  
That last night, they'd finished dinner and were reading in companionable silence when the comm system beeped with an incoming subspace message. The storms were still too heavy for a message from Dorvan V to punch through the interference, but an orbiting Starfleet vessel would use a focused subspace beam directed toward their receiver. They both knew at once who was calling.  
  
"I'll get that," she'd said, heading for the study. "It's probably for me."  
  
Five minutes later, she'd downloaded and refined the signal so that the snowy image of a Starfleet officer appeared on the screen. "I'm Captain Janice Grey of the U.S.S. Redoubt in orbit over Dorvan IV. Our sensors indicate an upcoming lull in the weather that will allow us to send a shuttle to the surface. We'll give you a two-hour notice of our arrival. We're looking forward to meeting you, Admiral, and providing you a safe trip back to Starfleet command. Grey out."  
  
Kathryn knew that Chakotay could hear the message as she played it, and she also knew that he'd accept her departure as a matter of course. She returned to the lounge and picked up her book. "I'll organize my things when I get ready for bed," she'd said, and Chakotay had nodded in assent.  
  
The night had progressed as all others had before them, with the two taking turns in the shower, sharing a last cup of tea, and finally crawling into bed together. Kathryn pillowed her head on Chakotay's shoulder, as she always did, and Chakotay put his arm around her, pulling her close, putting his cheek against her hair. She fought back a surge of despair that threatened to suffocate her. How could she leave him?  
  
"I scanned the weather while you were in the shower," he said into the intimate darkness, where it was always easier to talk about difficult topics. "I think the window Captain Grey was talking about will be here between 0600 and 0800 tomorrow."  
  
"So soon?" She was surprised to hear the note of sorrow in her voice. "I hate to leave you here alone."  
  
"The team will start arriving in a week or so. In the meantime, I'll be busy getting the rest of the camp out of mothballs." His voice was soft, controlled, but she sensed the turmoil beneath it.  
  
They held each other in silence until Kathryn lifted her head from his chest and rolled over so she could look down into his face. The air between them was thick with electricity as they realized this would be their last night together for many months. There was no way to know when they would be together again.  
  
"I love you, Chakotay." A tear splashed down from her eye to his cheek.  
  
"I love you, too, Kathryn." His voice choked as he spoke.  
  
She lowered her face to his, stopping just short of a kiss, breathing in his warm breath, staring into his dark eyes. It seemed as if she saw her own self looking back at her, as if the boundaries between them blurred and disappeared, creating a new being that was a combination of them both. The feeling was compelling, intoxicating, impossible to resist. They kissed and a feeling of warmth suffused them both, their hearts pounding, the world fading away as they drowned in each other.  
  
Later that night, as they'd spooned together in the afterglow of their lovemaking, they'd promised to send messages to each other, and they'd agreed to meet somewhere as soon as they could get away.  
  
"You've just taken a three-month vacation," he'd reminded her. "You'll have to wait awhile before taking more leave. That is, if you can consider your time here a vacation."  
  
"Better than a vacation," she'd answered, her voice a whisper. "I'd love to meet you next year. Name the time and place. Risa. Vulcan. A subspace relay station. Anywhere."  
  
They'd slept little, preferring to spend their last hours talking and holding each other. When the two-hour warning came through at 0500, they'd been lying awake in silence waiting for it, but it wasn't until Kathryn emerged from the sleeping alcove in a newly-replicated Starfleet uniform that the reality of her departure hit home.  
  
"I'm proud of you, Kathryn," Chakotay had said as he'd brushed her long hair back from her face. "This new uniform looks good on you." His eyes had been sad as he looked her up and down. "If anyone can perfect the slipstream drive, it's you."  
  
"My biggest motivation will be to put Earth that much closer to Dorvan V," she'd replied, tears in her eyes.  
  
He'd put his arms around her in a gentle embrace, careful not to muss her hair or makeup. "I've never kissed a woman in an admiral's uniform, you know." She'd lifted her face to his for a soft kiss just as they heard the whine of the shuttle's approach.  
  
The young lieutenant pilot treated Kathryn like a rare tropical flower. Chakotay had struggled to keep from laughing as Kathryn endured, with barely restrained irritation, the young man's obvious hero worship. They'd left immediately to take advantage of the lull in the weather, and, as the ship had lifted off, she'd refused to look back, afraid she'd embarrass herself by bursting into tears in front of the pilot.  
  
Even now, months later, Kathryn still reacted strongly to the memory of that special night. She'd been in love before and was hardly a naïve teenager, but she'd never experienced such a profound emotional bond in her life. Every boundary gone, every barrier forgotten, they'd submitted themselves completely to the other, holding nothing back, submerging their individuality in their mutual passion. The thought of it made it hard for her to breath, and she closed her eyes in concentration as she struggled to slow her racing heartbeat.  
  
"Admiral? Admiral Janeway?" Kathryn opened her eyes to find her executive officer, Captain Seamus Reilly, smiling down at her. "Sorry to wake you up, but the transport's arriving in five minutes."  
  
"I wasn't sleeping," she protested, sitting up. "Are we too late to greet the new team members?"  
  
"Not if we hurry." He held out his hand. "I think you should head home early and get some rest this weekend. You'll feel better."  
  
She smiled to herself, thinking that he really meant she'd be in a better mood. She wondered what he'd think if she confessed that she, an experienced admiral in her fifties, was actually love sick. "I'll think about it," she replied, taking his arm. "But, no promises."  
  
"Did anyone ever tell you that you work too hard?"  
  
She laughed. "Oh, yes. Commander Chakotay, my first officer on Voyager, was quite the nag. He told me that I worked too many hours, that I didn't eat right, that I drank too much coffee, that I needed more exercise, more sleep, more of a social life. On and on."  
  
Reilly laughed. "And you didn't throw him in the brig?"  
  
"He was usually right, and I knew it." At the man's look of astonishment, she smiled. "He was also very tactful."  
  
"And handsome, as I recall. Maybe I should start nagging you, Admiral."  
  
She gave him a pointed look. "No thanks, Seamus. After seven years of harping, I still hear Chakotay's voice in my head."  
  
Later that afternoon, after the Paris family had been joyously greeted and taken to their new home, B'Elanna Torres walked her former captain to the shuttle port.  
  
"Thanks for getting our quarters set up for us, Admiral," she said. "It was nice to be able to put the boys down for a nap in a real bed right away."  
  
"Most of the thanks should go to Ensign Connor, but you're welcome. I promised I'd make your decision to come here worth your while. I feel much better about our chances with the slipstream drive now that you and Tom are part of the team."  
  
"Thanks for the vote of confidence. It's a great chance for the kids to spend some quality time with Tom's family, too." They walked in comfortable silence before B'Elanna worked up the nerve to discuss the topic that they had been wondering about for nearly a year. She decided on an indirect approach. "You wouldn't happen to know where Chakotay is, would you?"  
  
Kathryn looked surprised. "Is he lost?"  
  
"Sort of. When they finally finished disassembling the camp three weeks ago, we expected him to return to his position at the university and then move back into his house on Dorvan V. Instead, he breezed through for a week or so, resigned his professorship, and disappeared on a shuttle for DS9 without telling anyone where he was going."  
  
"That doesn't sound like Chakotay. He left without telling anyone anything?"  
  
"Well, he told his sister not to worry if she didn't hear from him for awhile."  
  
Kathryn laughed. "Then, don't get worried yet. You've been to Dorvan IV, haven't you? Imagine being trapped there for over a year. Who could blame him for wanting to travel for awhile?"  
  
"But he resigned his professorship!"  
  
"Maybe he wants to write more than he wants to teach." She stopped and put her arm around the worried woman's shoulders. "He's a big boy, B'Elanna, and if he wants some time to himself, who are we to question that?"  
  
B'Elanna narrowed her eyes. "You know, when you took off for Dorvan IV, Tom wanted to restart the old betting pool."  
  
"The betting pool?"  
  
"Don't tell me you didn't know about the betting pool on Voyager."  
  
"I knew about several, B'Elanna, although I though Chakotay had squelched most of them." She walked steadily toward the ramp to the shuttle pad, B'Elanna trailing behind.  
  
"Oh, he did. Except for the one about you and Chakotay. That one had a life of its own."  
  
Kathryn turned to face the engineer and shook her head. "Some people never give up, do they?" When the other woman stayed silent, Kathryn continued, "I was trapped at the camp by the avalanche, B'Elanna. It took weeks for me to recuperate from my injuries. I had no ulterior motive for going there other than seeing my best friend."  
  
"Yeah, but . . . things happen when you're all alone on a planet, trying to stay warm in subzero temperatures."  
  
Kathryn looked at the younger woman standing there with her arms crossed. "So, how much to you have riding on this pool, B'Elanna?"  
  
"It isn't winning the betting pool that I care about, Kathryn. I just want you to be happy. Both of you."  
  
Kathryn was touched and looked away, her eyes hooded. "Thanks for caring. It really means a lot to both of us that our crew is concerned for our welfare." She glanced toward the shuttle deck. "Look, I'm expecting someone in San Francisco, and I'll be late if I don't leave right now. I'll see you tomorrow at the party and we'll talk more then." She gave B'Elanna a quick hug and raced down the ramp toward the landing area, her assistant waving to her from the door of the shuttle.  
  
"By refusing to answer the question, you're answering the question, you know," B'Elanna shouted after her.  
  
"What question, B'Elanna?" she shouted back as she trotted toward the shuttle, a smile on her face. "I didn't hear a question!"  
  
"Damn it." B'Elanna watched Kathryn disappear into the shuttle and waved as it lifted off for Earth. Why hadn't she just come out and asked her about Chakotay? "She knows more than she's telling, and Tom's never going to forgive me for not finding out the truth!"  
  
Kathryn collapsed into a seat in the passenger compartment of the shuttle just as the pilot finished the preflight checklist. Ensign Conner swiveled in the copilot's seat to face her. "Would you like some coffee, Admiral?"  
  
She grinned. He was getting to know her preferences just fine. "Just leave the pot."  
  
As the shuttle lifted off, she pulled a PADD from her bag and recalled a cryptic message she'd received early that morning in her private mail, her pulse jumping as the two words appeared:  
  
"Tonight. Chakotay." 


	10. Obstacles

Chapter 10: Obstacles  
  
Although she'd never been a superstitious person, Kathryn Janeway had premonitions of trouble when she awakened alone for the first time since Chakotay's arrival two weeks earlier. She'd intended to see him off when he left before dawn for a meeting in Paris, but she'd slept through her alarm and Chakotay had apparently decided not to awaken her. Instead he'd left a red rose and a note on her nightstand wishing her luck with her meeting with her boss, Admiral Dallas Travers, and promising to be home before she returned from work. She felt a pang of regret as she read his words of encouragement and wished she could've seen him in person for a good morning snuggle.  
  
She knew she had nothing to fear from Travers regarding her work. If anything, she should be proud of the progress she'd made in just a few months. The entire team was fully staffed and productive, and B'Elanna had made great progress with the engines in her short time on Utopia Planetia. Kathryn always believed that a good offense was the best defense, so she'd spent the last two days preparing to answer any question Travers could come up with. In fact, she'd even sent a detailed report to him the day before, with copies provided to every other admiral on the Research and Development staff. She was ready, and she knew it.  
  
What concerned her, and what she'd avoided telling Chakotay, was that Travers wanted to meet with her one-on-one for what he called a "heart-to- heart" talk, subject unknown. Kathryn had a strong suspicion that the topic was going to be about Tom and B'Elanna. He'd refused to let them join the team until Kathryn had gone over his head and gotten a public recommendation from Starfleet's top engineer, an action any admiral would resent. But, because Kathryn was convinced that she needed Tom and B'Elanna to be successful, she was willing to make him angry for the short term. She was sure he'd come around once he realized how much they contributed to the program. She'd promised herself that she'd stick to the chain of command from here on in, and she'd tell him so.  
  
Although years had passed since her return from the Delta Quadrant, she still had friends in high places who considered her a hero, and she was sure she could count on them to support her. Not only that, she was a seasoned admiral who'd been raised in a Starfleet family and schooled in its politics. She was more than able to take care of herself. If Travers thought he could force her to remove those two from her team, he was in for a fight.  
  
She finished dressing and picked up the flower, admiring its perfection and delicate aroma. The rose was a sweet gesture, and she decided to put it on her desk as a reminder of Chakotay's continued love and support. Knowing that he'd be there for her at the end of the day would make whatever Travers threw at her at the meeting much less stressful. Plus, there was the chance that Chakotay's meeting in Paris might result in a teaching position at Berkley, something they both wanted. Maybe he'd have good news waiting for her.  
  
It might be a good day, after all.  
  
* * * * *  
  
"Well, if it isn't Commander Chakotay, Starfleet's finest first officer."  
  
Chakotay recognized the voice before he looked up into the familiar face. "Richard Laramie. Imagine meeting you here."  
  
"I was wondering when our paths would cross. Where better than Sandrine's?" He took a long sip of his drink—a double scotch. "Where's Kathryn? I've wanted to say 'I told you so.'"  
  
"She's at work at Starfleet Headquarters."  
  
"Too bad. Mind if I join you?"  
  
Chakotay wanted to say he minded. He couldn't imagine a more bizarre situation than sharing a table at Sandrine's with Kathryn's former lover. The rivalry continued between them and Richard's bitter attitude was obvious. However, he was a big enough man to put up with it. "Have a seat."  
  
Richard gave him a furtive look. "Rumor has it that you're living with her in San Francisco."  
  
"I'm staying at her apartment, yes."  
  
"And in her bed, I imagine."  
  
Chakotay scowled. "Listen, Richard, . . ."  
  
He stopped him with a gesture. "Forget I said that, Chakotay. A gentleman never tells, right? Especially not the former boyfriend who always lived down the hall. Always on the long leash."  
  
"You're drunk."  
  
"Not drunk enough, but I'm working on it."  
  
"This is a bad idea," Chakotay mumbled, pushing his drink away and starting to rise.  
  
"No, wait. I promise to be civil. I've been looking for the chance to warn you. And her. I did love her, you know, and I want the best for her."  
  
"Warn us about what?" Chakotay sat back down.  
  
"Ah. Now I have your undivided attention. People credited me with 'saving her career.' Remember that? I didn't."  
  
"She says you did."  
  
"She's being kind. Except for a couple of poor, hasty decisions in the heat of the moment, Kathryn Janeway was a model Starfleet captain in an impossible situation, always within the parameters of acceptable behavior. And you helped her every step of the way, Chakotay. She owes you big time."  
  
"We owe her more," he replied quietly.  
  
"Maybe." Richard took another drink and narrowed his eyes. "What saved her career was her behavior once Voyager returned. She was under complete control and exhibited none of the eccentric behavior often evident in rogue captains who've spent years on their own. She was Starfleet through and through."  
  
"That's the truth."  
  
"Until now."  
  
"I beg your pardon?"  
  
"Now, she's breaking the mold, showing an unstable element."  
  
"You mean because of Tom and B'Elanna?"  
  
"And you."  
  
Chakotay blinked, suddenly understanding. "And me."  
  
"You've been lounging around in the boondocks too long. You've forgotten about the back-stabbing, rumor mongering crew of paranoids in the admiralty. They're predators looking to attack the sickly, the weak, the different."  
  
"What are you talking about?"  
  
"The Maquis. Kathryn's done as well as she has because she's had little or nothing to do with the Maquis members of Voyager's crew. She let you disappear into deep space while she stayed busy in a completely different quadrant. She associated with Starfleet types."  
  
"Like you."  
  
"Yes, like me."  
  
Chakotay nodded. She had stayed away, but he suspected it had more to do with his relationship with Seven than with a desire to preserve her career. "We always stayed in touch."  
  
"Well, sure. A subspace comm once in awhile. Two personal visits in eight years. A captain has ongoing responsibilities to a former crew, Chakotay, purely advisory in nature. No problem."  
  
"But now, things have changed."  
  
"Now she's put Tom and B'Elanna on the Slipstream project. Two convicts. That's different, irregular, suspicious."  
  
Chakotay fought back a terse reply. "They're the best people for the jobs."  
  
"Undoubtedly, or Kathryn wouldn't have risked her career arguing for them."  
  
"Risked her career?"  
  
"She went over her boss's head for their approval. Never a good idea. In fact, it may already be too late. Her boss is Dallas Travers, right? Chief of R & D?"  
  
"Yeah. Admiral Travers."  
  
"Not a risk-taker. He was at the Battle for the Omicron Belt during the Dominion War. In fact, his was the only ship that survived."  
  
"I don't remember the details."  
  
Richard smiled. "That's right. You were elsewhere during the war." He signaled the waiter for another drink. "The sensor readings on his ship were garbled for some reason, so the timeframes are questionable, but rumor has it that he left the battle a little early. At least, that's what his ops officer told me once. He was drunk at the time, but I believe him."  
  
"He left before the battle was over?" Such cowardice was unheard of among Starfleet officers.  
  
"No one could prove it. But, basically, he hid behind a moon while the other two ships fought to the death."  
  
"Does Kathryn know this?"  
  
Richard chuckled. "He's her boss. I'm sure she's done her homework about him."  
  
"It's hard to believe that a Starfleet captain would just leave like that!"  
  
"Especially after serving with a captain like Kathryn, I'd imagine. She's pure courage."  
  
"That she is."  
  
"Once she'd enlisted the help of the chief engineer, Travers had no choice but to approve Tom and B'Elanna's appointment. The Paris name carries weight, too, you know. But, he no doubt resents Kathryn for embarrassing him and making him stick his neck out. I've heard they gave B'Elanna a 'provisional' clearance."  
  
"Vouched by?"  
  
"Kathryn Janeway, of course."  
  
Chakotay's eyes widened. "So if there's any question, any irregularity whatever."  
  
"Kathryn will pay dearly. Probably with her career."  
  
"Damn."  
  
"And then there's you."  
  
"A Maquis terrorist."  
  
"And a traitor in the eyes of the conservative element. Have you two been discreet?"  
  
"About what?"  
  
"Do you appear together in public?"  
  
"I went to a family picnic the Saturday after I arrived. I've visited her mom in Indiana a couple of times. We've spent a few days at Lake George."  
  
"Did you?" He took a long draw from his second drink. "You know, she never took me there."  
  
"We visited it on Voyager's holodeck once in awhile."  
  
"I suspected as much. Special memories. Well, you'll have to cut back. Keep things more private. You haven't listed her apartment as your home address, have you?"  
  
"I've told people they can reach me there."  
  
"Change that."  
  
"I think you're paranoid." He also wondered how much of this was driven by jealousy.  
  
"I'm realistic. I'm giving you free legal advice, Chakotay, for Kathryn's good." He leaned forward, and Chakotay could smell the liquor on his breath. "It's not just the Maquis, either. It's also the other Admiral Janeway, the one who broke the Temporal Prime Directive all to hell for her Voyager 'family.'"  
  
Chakotay scowled. "I met that woman. She wasn't at all like Kathryn."  
  
"So you say. They don't know that. All they see is a couple of very unconventional, even dangerous decisions that bring her judgment into question. She's including a criminal element, an unknown threat, into her life."  
  
"And Travers will feel even more exposed by that."  
  
"Yes. He'll be looking for a moon to hide behind, leaving Kathryn to fend for herself."  
  
Chakotay sat back to think about what he'd heard. It made sense, even though he felt it was horribly unfair. "Maybe you're saying this because you're jealous. You don't want us to be together."  
  
Richard laughed out loud. "Oh, I admit that, Chakotay. Kathryn's a remarkable, passionate woman, a thoroughbred, real class. But she was never really mine, you know. She's better than any admiral you'd care to name, a real leader, an idealist. Just the type the pack feeds on."  
  
"What can I do to help her?"  
  
"You tell me."  
  
Chakotay rubbed his face in frustration. "I should put some distance between us."  
  
"I didn't tell you that."  
  
"You didn't have to. I should take a job elsewhere, the farther away the better. See her infrequently."  
  
"Discreetly, of course. By accident."  
  
"Discreetly."  
  
They sat in silence for awhile. Richard became steadily drunker, while Chakotay became more and more depressed.  
  
"How is she, really?" Richard asked at last. "Has she fully recovered from her injuries?"  
  
"She's fine, healthy. She loves her job. She seems happy."  
  
Richard studied the ice in his glass. "She used to tell me that happiness is overrated. She might be right." He drained his drink and offered Chakotay his hand. "Well, I'd better go. You must be quite a man to earn the love and respect of a woman like her. I know you'll do the right thing."  
  
"I will." They shook hands.  
  
"If she needs my help, or if you do, call me."  
  
"Thanks, Richard."  
  
"Tell her I said hello."  
  
Chakotay watched the judge weave his way back to the bar and wondered about the conversation. Kathryn had been evasive about her meeting with Travers. Could this be what they were discussing?  
  
His stomach felt as if it had been filled with lead. He had thought briefly about what his past would do to her career, but he'd been too caught up in the sheer joy and excitement of their relationship to think clearly about it. Of course, the more conservative elements in Starfleet and the Federation would wonder about her reliability if she was involved with a man who had a criminal record. While he'd always know the term "terrorist" applied to the Maquis, he'd never really accepted that he could also be considered a traitor. He'd never considered overthrowing the government; he blamed his family's murder on poor leadership, not on a poor system.  
  
He also knew how much the slipstream project meant to Kathryn. She'd called it the perfect blend of command and science, and she'd worked toward it ever since Voyager had returned, for nearly eight years. He wasn't about to deprive her of it.  
  
He knew what he had to do. He just had to have the courage to do it.  
  
* * * * *  
  
Kathryn Janeway was still so furious at the end of the day that she decided to walk the twelve blocks home from her office. When she arrived, she found Chakotay asleep on the sofa and sat down on the coffee table to study his face, her heart swelling with love and devotion. As much as she needed to talk to him, she knew he needed the nap to recover from his early morning departure, and she needed time to think and to regain her composure. Her meeting with Travers had left her so angry that she was still fuming four hours later. A long, relaxing bath and a change into comfortable clothing would help, so she covered him with a blanket and headed for the bathroom.  
  
The warm water was soothing, and she soon found herself near tears as the irony of the situation sunk in. She had been so happy the last two weeks, so incredibly happy. She had a job that was challenging, interesting, and important, and she had the man she loved waiting for her every night. After all she'd been through—a Cardassian prison, the deaths of her father and fiancé right before her eyes, an exile 70,000 light years from home, the loss of a second fiancé—she was almost ready to believe that her luck had changed, that she could really have professional success and personal happiness. Until today.  
  
Travers had been satisfied with the status report and pleased with B'Elanna's skill as an innovative engineer. His concern had been much more personal and painful.  
  
"I want to discuss Chakotay," he'd said, his eyes glittering with malice. "I can't have my project director involved with a known terrorist and traitor."  
  
She'd wanted to vault over his desk and grab him by the throat, but, in fact, she'd been so shocked by his words and the tone of his voice that she'd stared at him in silence.  
  
He'd gone on, "You are living together, aren't you?"  
  
Were they? Chakotay was staying with her while he was actively looking for a job someplace nearby, "within transporter range," as he put it, but did he mean to live with her and transport to work, or live where he worked and transport to see her? They hadn't discussed it.  
  
"Kathryn?" he prodded.  
  
"He's staying with me for now," she answered, finding her voice. "Whether we're living together or not is our business."  
  
"It's my business, too," he'd insisted. "Living with a man like Chakotay shows poor judgment and raises the question of proper security."  
  
A man like Chakotay? She bit back a bitter response. Travers was a known coward and hardly worthy to speak Chakotay's name. "I don't understand what you're talking about, Admiral."  
  
"He'll have access to sensitive material in your home."  
  
"I think not. I know better than to bring classified documents home with me."  
  
"He'll know your whereabouts and be able to trace the project's development."  
  
She struggled to keep her anger under control. "For what purpose? Are you saying he's involved with me because of my job?"  
  
"Terrorists and traitors are capable of anything."  
  
She'd had enough and stood up. "As are some admirals, apparently. Chakotay is not a traitor."  
  
"He is in my book. He took an oath when he joined Starfleet that he . . . ."  
  
"Oh, please, Dallas. You know the Cardassians murdered nearly his entire family and destroyed his home planet. What would you have done?"  
  
Travers put up his hands. "Kathryn, I'm not going to debate his motivation or his politics with you. This is about you, not Chakotay."  
  
She tried to make the connection. "I don't understand. Aren't you challenging me about my relationship with him?"  
  
"I'm concerned about your judgment."  
  
"My judgment." She sat down, confused. "In my private life."  
  
"Just tell me he'll be moving out soon, that's all I want to hear. Tell me you'll be more discreet."  
  
"More discreet about what?"  
  
"About Chakotay. Keep things private. Don't take him to any more family picnics or Starfleet functions."  
  
Her anger threatened to overwhelm her again. "Now, just a minute. Are saying you're concerned about what people will think if I'm involved with Chakotay? Do you really expect me to live my life to please somebody else?"  
  
"What I'm saying is that the man's reputation is a threat to your continuing in your position. Unless you want to change jobs, limit your contact with him to a more casual friendship."  
  
"'Unless I want to change jobs'?" She was trembling with fury, her voice deadly calm. "Has someone talked to you about this, Dallas?"  
  
"I'm aware of the opinions in the admiralty."  
  
"So no one has expressed any concern about this to you. You're just aware, in some way, of their possible disapproval."  
  
"I know I disapprove of it, Kathryn, and I'm your boss."  
  
She realized that this was his way of getting even with her for going over his head for B'Elanna, and she wasn't about to take it lying down. "I don't respond well to threats, Admiral."  
  
He ignored her comment. "Take some time off. Seamus can handle your work for a week or so. Talk to Chakotay about this. Surely he doesn't want to damage your career."  
  
"You're relieving me?"  
  
"No, of course not! The team is humming along beautifully and can survive a week without you. Think this through, and I'll see you a week from Monday with your decision."  
  
"My decision?"  
  
"The position or Chakotay."  
  
The rest of the meeting was a blur, but she was fairly sure she'd left before she completely lost control. She knew she'd stood toe to toe with him and told him in no uncertain terms that Chakotay was no terrorist and no traitor and twice the man he was. Then, she'd spent the next hour storming around the grounds of Starfleet Academy thinking things through before she'd returned to her office and spent the rest of the day briefing Seamus on exactly what she expected from him during her absence.  
  
She closed her eyes, surprised that the heat of her fury hadn't brought the bath water to a boil. She tried to imagine telling Chakotay about Travers' ultimatum, tried to anticipate his reaction. While she'd responded with indignant fury, he would be resigned, accepting, and full of guilt that his past actions were harming her career today. He'd never denied anything he'd done and always realized that his future was limited because of his Maquis connections. He'd spoken to her often, or tried to, of the damage it could do to her, as well, but she'd always brushed him off, unwilling to worry about something that might never happen.  
  
She'd spent part of her afternoon trying to determine whether Travers was speaking for a group of concerned admirals or only from his own point of view. Most of Starfleet higher ranks knew of her exile at the snow camp, but they also knew that it was a terrible accident that had stranded her there. They would hardly assume that she and Chakotay, after their long association on Voyager, would begin a love affair during their time together. And, if they had indulged in a brief fling, no one would necessarily expect it to continue afterwards. From what she'd been able to discover, only Travers was aware of the fact that she and Chakotay were living together, and only he was concerned about the implications of the relationship.  
  
Not that others might become concerned. The Maquis had made many enemies in Starfleet, had embarrassed more than one captain in battle, and had even killed a few good officers in the course of their efforts to undermine the Cardassian treaty. While many years had passed since the Maquis had been eliminated, and although the Maquis had been proven right in their flouting of Federation policy, animosity remained alive and well. Especially against the Maquis who were former Starfleet officers, like Chakotay.  
  
She sighed and activated the warming mechanism in the tub. Chakotay would probably not want to fight the system. He'd suggest that he take a job elsewhere, perhaps even off planet, to put distance between them and lessen the appearance of their connection to each other. He'd argue against her taking a different job because he believed she was destined to develop the slipstream drive. He'd see two options and pick the one that demanded the most from him, the least from her.  
  
But Kathryn Janeway didn't approach problems the way most people did. How many times had he and Tuvok come to her with a mournful set of solutions to a problem, certain that none of them would make her happy? She'd listen patiently as they argued for one or another choice, and then she'd lean forward in her desk and ask them to look in a completely different direction, one they'd overlooked. She smiled to herself as she remembered the astonished looks in their eyes, the hope that sprouted in their faces.  
  
There was always a better option if you just changed a few parameters.  
  
She found Chakotay drinking tea on the balcony and watching the sunset. "Feel better?" he asked, pouring her a cup of tea. He knew that an early evening bath usually meant that she'd had a particularly long, stressful day.  
  
"Much better," she replied, taking the cup and settling next to him on the glider. "How was your meeting with Jack?"  
  
"Great. He's offering me a job at the museum in Paris."  
  
She nodded, picking up on a strange tone in his voice. There was more. "What about the teaching position at Berkley?"  
  
He paused, leaning forward to place his cup on the table—and to distance himself from her, she suspected. "I think the Paris job is a better fit."  
  
"Really." She put her cup down, as well, linked her arm through his, and pulled him back next to her. He was being evasive, but she knew better than to make a direct attack. "So did he also offer you the visiting professorship at Berkley?"  
  
"Yes, he did." He stared into the distance, avoiding her eyes.  
  
"And how, exactly, is Paris a 'better fit'?" She had her suspicions, of course, but she wanted to hear what he'd say, how he'd phrase it, especially since he'd talked consistently about getting teaching position in the Bay area.  
  
"I think it would be better for both of our careers."  
  
She frowned. Had he somehow heard about her meeting with Travers? She hadn't told him anything, yet he'd obviously changed his mind about Berkley for some reason. She shifted slightly so that her knee and lower leg were against his thigh, her hand on his shoulder. She studied his profile, but saw no flicker there. "'Both our careers'? Tell me how your being in Paris will help my career."  
  
He glanced at her briefly, a blush building in his cheeks. "You know how."  
  
"Tell me." Her voice was commanding, and he took a deep breath.  
  
"Because my past is always going to be a serious stumbling block for you, that's why. Because if I'm here with you, they might decide you need a different job."  
  
There it was. Her eyes widened in surprise as she wondered what he knew. "Chakotay, we've discussed this, and I've told you that your past is not going to damage my career."  
  
"Richard thinks it will," he blurted out, turning to her. "I won't let that happen, Kathryn. You've done nothing wrong."  
  
"Richard Laramie?"  
  
"I saw him at Sandrine's after my meeting with Jack. I was hoping to run into some of our Starfleet crew, and there was Richard. He wanted to warn us, to warn you, about Travers. He thinks Travers is out to get you and will use our relationship to do it."  
  
She nodded and stood up, walking to the balcony to think. Richard had an uncanny ability to predict problems in the admiralty. There were times when he'd been so accurate that she'd wondered if he'd bugged the executive bathrooms. She bet he'd enjoyed goading Chakotay about being Maquis. "Did it occur to you that he might be a little jealous because we're together?"  
  
"He admitted he was." Chakotay joined her at the balcony. "He thought you should know what to expect."  
  
She turned and leaned back against the railing, crossing her arms. "The warning was a little late."  
  
His eyes locked with hers. "Your meeting with Travers today."  
  
"He thinks I'm showing poor judgment because I'm involved with you."  
  
He visibly wilted. "That's why the Paris job is perfect for both of us."  
  
She narrowed her eyes. "You know how I dislike it when you take decisions out of my hands without even discussing them with me."  
  
He swallowed. On Voyager, she'd reprimanded him because he'd failed to consult with her before taking a shuttle to reclaim the replicator Seska had stolen. He still felt bad about that. "He said it's me or the job, right? What's to discuss?"  
  
"Our other options, of course." She smiled at him, her eyes twinkling.  
  
"He gave you other options?"  
  
"Well, no. But they're out there."  
  
He chuckled, hope brightening his eyes. "I should've known. I'm listening."  
  
"Travers underestimates me. He's forgetting that I, too, have thirty years of experience under my belt, plus the added notoriety of Voyager. My dad was an admiral, as were my paternal and maternal grandfathers. I've been the personal guest of the president at the official residence and I've met everybody who is somebody on the council. At least twice. Since I was a tiny tot, I've learned how to use the system, and I won't hesitate to pull every string and call in every favor if I have to."  
  
"Travers' ultimatum is based on the false assumption that Kathryn Janeway can be bullied."  
  
She chuckled. "That's not the only false assumption, Chakotay. He's underestimated you, as well."  
  
"I'm afraid my circle of friends is much more limited than yours."  
  
"Not your friends. You. Once they meet you, my friends will be your friends."  
  
He shook his head. "How can you be so sure?"  
  
"You're incredibly intelligent and wise, plus you have good looks and charm and a refreshing sense of humor. Once you flash those devastating dimples at people, they're willing to eat out of your hand." She moved closer to him, slipping her arms around his waist.  
  
"And when, exactly, will I have the chance to exert this subtle influence on the powers that be?"  
  
She smiled as she snuggled into his chest. "Don't you remember our weekend plans?"  
  
"We're going to your mom's for a barbecue."  
  
"Not just any barbecue. The famous Janeway Founder's Day barbecue, with all of our family and all of our friends in attendance. There'll be four generations of admirals there, Chakotay, not to mention a few ambassadors."  
  
"Everybody who is somebody?"  
  
"Enough to make a good start on repairing your reputation."  
  
He pulled back from her enough to look into her eyes. "So you intend to have me and the job, too."  
  
"It's the only option I'll consider."  
  
His eyes were dark with affection. "Do you have any idea how much I love you?"  
  
She blinked back tears. "I think I do. There's only one thing I need to make clear to you."  
  
He braced himself. "What's that?"  
  
"You seemed so sure that I'd choose to keep the slipstream job over being with you."  
  
"I thought that my being in Paris would let you have both."  
  
"I'd only see you on the weekends, though."  
  
He smiled. "It was better than nothing."  
  
Somewhere out of lost future, she sensed the presence of her former self, the admiral who had given her life for her crew. "I didn't come back to give you one last chance for happiness," she'd told Kathryn that night in the mess hall, but she must have known it might happen, that Kathryn's changed future might include Chakotay. "If you have a chance for happiness," she'd said finally, mysteriously, "grab it with both hands."  
  
Kathryn pulled him close, both arms tight around his waist. "When I woke up alone this morning, I missed you terribly. The rose was sweet, but I wanted you. The last two weeks have been perfect because you've been here waiting for me when the day was over. I want to see you every day, every night, every morning. Nothing less will do." She looked up at him as tears spilled down her cheeks. "There are dozens of good jobs out there, but only one you. I want you to know that I'd choose you, Chakotay. I love you and I want us to be together always."  
  
He was stunned, unable to breathe. Long ago, he'd accepted the fact that Starfleet came first with her, that duty took precedence over personal happiness. To know that he came first in her life was almost more than he could comprehend. "You love me that much?"  
  
"Believe it," she whispered, wrapping her arms around his neck and kissing him deeply until the world faded into oblivion.  
  
Their dreams had come true. 


	11. Dauntless, Part 1

For those who don't remember, Dauntless was the "Starfleet" ship that Voyager found with the alien Arturis' help, only to discover that Arturis' real plan was to have the crew assimilated because they had prevented species 8472 from destroying the Borg. The Dauntless, which, of course, was not a Starfleet vessel, was powered by a quantum slipstream drive ("Hope and Fear").  
  
  
  
Chapter 11: Dauntless, Part 1  
  
Chakotay could hear Gretchen Janeway moving around the second story of the farmhouse as she prepared to beam to San Francisco for the memorial service. Phoebe, John, and their children were probably already there, as late as it was. He walked to the window and watched a fat robin frolic in the birdbath. It was a perfect Indiana spring.  
  
Five years as the husband of a Starfleet admiral had taught him several useful skills. He'd learned to answer to "Mr. Janeway." During formal dinners, he'd learned to keep his mouth shut when the conversation veered toward Federation politics or Starfleet policy. He'd learned to become invisible during a diplomatic crisis, unless he was called upon to usher the other spouses or children out of the room. But, the one lesson he'd never mastered was how to let his wife plunge into potentially dangerous missions while he stayed behind.  
  
"You have to let her go, Chakotay," Gretchen had advised him early in the marriage. "I was married to an admiral, too, and I know how hard it is to stay behind and do nothing, but they need to know we're here, safe and sound, waiting for them. Don't underestimate how hard this is for Kathryn, either."  
  
He smiled. Who would've predicted that he and his mother-in-law would have so much in common? She fascinated him, so much like Kathryn, yet so different. She'd taken him into her family without question, and he'd loved her for that.  
  
Gretchen came into the room wearing a lovely green print dress, a hand-crocheted shawl, and a white straw hat with a wide brim. He realized that she would stand out in the Starfleet crowd like a Nausican at a Ferengi family reunion. She glanced down, smoothing the skirt with her hands, and said, "I wore black the first time. Kathryn always liked me best in green."  
  
"It's your color," he agreed. "It brings out the green in your eyes."  
  
The next thing he knew, Gretchen was giving him a fierce hug. "Oh, Chakotay, how can we endure this?"  
  
He pulled her close, closing his eyes as he realized that she was the same height and build as Kathryn, a memory come to life in his arms. Kathryn, his wife. His late wife. "If you'll hold me up," he suggested, "I'll hold you up."  
  
She nodded, chuckling softly. "That might work. Thank God you're here. I couldn't go through this again without you."  
  
Again. The first memorial service, held after Voyager's disappearance in the Badlands, had proven to be erroneous, but this time, not even Chakotay could find reason for hope. He'd begged Kathryn not to go on the deep space slipstream test.  
  
"You didn't go on the Arturis for the trans-Federation test. Why go this time?"  
  
"Because six weeks in the slipstream will take Dauntless nearly 30,000 light years away, that's why."  
  
"Back to the Delta Quadrant. Your counterpart sacrificed her life to get you home last time. Who'll save you this time?"  
  
"I'm not going to be stuck there this time, Chakotay. That's what the project's about—increasing the range of our vessels to include the Delta Quadrant—and you know it." She'd faced him with her hands on her hips, as she always did when he argued with her. "I've been working toward this for six long years. It's my responsibility to lead the team."  
  
"Then take B'Elanna. Or Tom."  
  
Her eyes were cold. She was tired of this argument and beginning to lose her temper. "Starfleet restricts test flights to uniformed personnel."  
  
"Because it's so dangerous."  
  
She sighed. "Because it's a test. But, we've done hundreds of simulations. We've studied the Arturis' engines after its tests. We've done short-range missions with Dauntless. This is the next step, Chakotay. The crew is well-trained, the best in Starfleet. I'll be fine. Nothing bad will happen."  
  
"A simple mission, right? Like catching Maquis in the Badlands."  
  
Her anger evaporated, and she walked up to him, taking his hand. "There are always risks, of course."  
  
"Take me with you. Anything can happen out there, and you need someone you really trust to watch your back."  
  
She smiled up at him. "I can't take my spouse along when the rest of the crew is leaving theirs behind. Besides, the crew won't let anything happen to the admiral."  
  
"I'm worried about Kathryn."  
  
"She'll be fine, too." She'd said as she slipped her arms around him. "She'll come home to you, I promise."  
  
He was startled when Gretchen pulled away and smiled up at him. "Are you ready to go?"  
  
No, he didn't want to go. He wanted to run away, to deny that anything had happened. This service was forcing him to acknowledge that she was gone, and he dreaded every moment of it. He knew Gretchen could see the fear in his eyes, because she put her hand in his to comfort him, "We'll do this together."  
  
He nodded. Kathryn would expect him to be strong, to endure the ceremony with grace and courage. "I guess it's time."  
  
It was not a glorious spring day in San Francisco, but the fog and cold mist were a better fit to Chakotay's mood. In spite of the weather, the crowds outside the auditorium were large, filling the plaza between Starfleet Headquarters and the Academy. The media lined the walkway to cover "the story of the century," the incredible story of the same Starfleet officer becoming lost in the far reaches of the Delta Quadrant, this time in the mysterious explosion of a ship that was designed to open deep space to routine exploration. Sixty-five Starfleet personnel lost.  
  
Chakotay felt guilty because he hadn't really seen Kathryn off. When Dauntless' departure was moved up a week, Chakotay had been on Tau Ceti Prime promoting his new book on the Maquis. He'd been too angry and stubborn to cut his trip short and had sent her a brief "good luck, see you soon" message by subspace, instead. After all, he'd thought, according to her this was a routine mission. Why make a big deal out of it?  
  
Later, after she was gone, he'd watched her final message to him so many times that he knew it by heart. "I was hoping to resolve our differences before I left," she'd begun, rolling mug of coffee nervously in her hands, "but they say you're in an interview and can't be interrupted. I didn't want to leave without saying goodbye." She'd faltered. "Or maybe 'au revoir.' I understand how you feel about my going on this mission and wish things could be different. I wish I could have your support on this, but I don't want you to feel guilty or have any regrets, Chakotay. I know you love me just as much as I love you."  
  
She'd looked away then, sipping her coffee to cover a near slip in her emotional control. "On Voyager, when something went wrong, I always looked for you. Did you know that?" Of course he did, because he'd always looked for her at the same moment. "Just knowing you were there gave me the strength and courage to keep going. I'll miss having you beside me, but now I have you in my heart." She gave him a weak smile. "In three months, when I get back, I'll make this up to you. We'll take a long vacation and decide together what's next. We'll never have to be apart like this again, I promise." She'd touched the screen briefly, and then continued, "Take care of my mom and yourself, will you? It means so much to know you're there, loving me in spite of everything I've done to you. I love you, Chakotay, and I'm sorry if I've let you down."  
  
Her last words always wrenched his heart, for she hadn't let him down. He knew, and he'd known then, that she was simply doing her job. The truth was that he had let her down. She had been leaving on a dangerous mission, a test flight of a new engine and ship design, a deep space mission into unknown territory, and he'd been somewhere else pouting because she had to go without him.  
  
He glanced at Gretchen, whose hand gripped his arm as they made their way across the plaza, a distant look on her face. When, after Dauntless was lost and he'd confessed to her what he'd done, she'd consoled him with same patience and understanding that Kathryn had always shown him.  
  
"We've all done it, Chakotay, at one time or another," she'd admitted. "We've all sent them off hoping that the door would hit them in the butt on the way out, and we've all regretted it later. It's only human. But, ninety-nine times out of a hundred they come home in one piece, and we're so happy to see them that we forget what we were angry about when they left. She knew you loved her. That's what she remembered out there, believe me. And she'd want you to remember that she loved you back."  
  
Ninety-nine times out of a hundred, she'd said, they come home in one piece.  
  
Inside the building, they were greeted by the rest of Dauntless' crew's family members, a group brought close by grief in the last few months. They were seated off the stage, hidden from sight in the wings, but from his seat in the front row, Chakotay could see that most of Voyager's crew had been seated together in the audience, almost every Starfleet member and most of the Maquis, as well. They'd come to honor the memory of their valiant captain and to show Chakotay their undying loyalty. He'd already spoken to most of them in the reunion and receptions leading up to the memorial service, already received their condolences. Kathryn would be so pleased to know that their crew, their Voyager family, was together again.  
  
He was surrounded by people who cared about him, people who had lost just as much as he had. The entire Federation joined him in his grief. Gretchen gripped his hand as the ceremony began, and Phoebe put her arm around his shoulders. Why, then, did he feel so alone?  
  
Five years earlier, the marriage of a Starfleet admiral and a former Maquis terrorist had electrified the Federation, and speculation on the command relationship between Voyager's captain and first officer once again filled the airwaves. He and Kathryn had laughed when the press had romanticized their time in the Delta Quadrant—the petite and proper Starfleet captain subduing the dangerous, unpredictable Maquis rebel with the strength of her character, only to find herself captivated by his moral integrity and devastating good looks. "And it only took fifteen years," she'd teased, her eyes twinkling.  
  
For months, the press had reported on their lives, dramatizing the tragic circumstances that precipitated Chakotay's defection to the Maquis, revealing how most of his Maquis raids had been directed against illegal Cardassian military outposts, illustrating his seven years of loyal and unwavering service on Voyager, and praising his quiet reentry into Federation citizenship and his brilliant scholarship and teaching skills. When his book on the history of the Maquis was published, it was universally praised for its even-handed discussion of the flawed Cardassian treaty and the polarizing effect it had on Federation society. Starfleet Academy used it as a textbook in their political science classes.  
  
Contrary to Admiral Travers' prediction, no one ever questioned his loyalty to the Federation or mentioned the possibility that he might compromise Starfleet security. Kathryn and Chakotay were acknowledged as one of the Federation's most popular couples, but their carefully planned public relations job wasn't complete until Travers wrote a positive book review.  
  
"Listen to this," Kathryn had said, standing up and reading from Travers' comments as if an orator: "'Chakotay is a paradox of conformity and rebellion, a man whose moral courage is exceeded only by his personal integrity.'" Raising a glass of champagne, she said, "When we work together, Chakotay, we can do anything."  
  
On the dais, the speakers were praising the work done on the slipstream prototypes: Arturis and Dauntless. Chakotay still shivered when he heard the names. "Don't name the ships after 'Arturis' and 'Dauntless,'" he'd cautioned her. "It's bad luck."  
  
"Don't be silly. They're just names." She'd grinned at him, sure he was making a joke.  
  
"If Arturis' plan had worked out as he wanted, the entire crew would've been assimilated by the Borg."  
  
"But we weren't, and that's the point. What we learned about the quantum slipstream drive started with Arturis and his ship. It's only logical to name the prototypes after them."  
  
"'Only logical'? Maybe you'd feel differently if you'd been on Voyager, desperately trying to beam you and Seven to safety before it was too late."  
  
She shook her head. "It wasn't a picnic on Dauntless, either, believe me. But everything came out fine."  
  
"You aren't going to budge on this."  
  
"I'm not the superstitious type."  
  
He'd bristled at that, at her disregard for his more spiritual nature, but he knew she was just irritated with him. Later, she'd come to him apologetically and said, "Think of the names as defying fate. Things can't go wrong twice if the ship has the same name."  
  
He'd given up, although he still felt uneasy about the mission. Perhaps he was superstitious, perhaps he feared that fate couldn't be defied, but Kathryn simply wasn't like him, simply didn't have it in her nature to worry about such things. She left the worrying up to him.  
  
As the ceremony droned on, Chakotay's mind wandered to the huge silver building visible through the French doors along the west wall—Starfleet Communications. Reginald Barclay had arranged for Chakotay to be present when Dauntless contacted them from the Delta Quadrant. In the six weeks that had passed since Kathryn's departure, Chakotay's irritation had cooled off considerably, and he'd hoped his presence would reassure her of his unconditional love and support. The excitement was palpable as the expected time of contact approached.  
  
All they'd heard was silence, or the strange subspace static that passes for silence. He tried not to panic as he watched Reg and his team widen the subspace band, filter the static time and again, and change the array's orientation. Six hours later, Reg informed him that the problem was probably something as simple as Dauntless' missing the exit coordinates.  
  
"You know how hard it is to navigate inside the slipstream," he'd theorized. "A fraction of a degree of error would throw them off by several light years. They're probably en route to the planned exit point and will contact us soon. I'll let you know as soon as we hear something."  
  
The next week had been agony. He'd isolated himself in their San Francisco apartment and imagined dozens of disastrous explanations for their failure to report. He'd fought the impulse to call Reg every hour on the hour or to stay with the team as they waited. In spite of Starfleet's round-the-clock surveillance, there was only silence. Nothing but silence.  
  
Reg finally decided to contact Neelix, Voyager's Talaxian cook and morale officer who had stayed behind in the Delta Quadrant, and ask him to find out what he could about the ship.  
  
"He's at least ten days away from their coordinates, but he was glad to help. Perhaps their subspace transceiver was destroyed," Reg had explained, "or their propulsion is down. Neelix can be our eyes and ears in the Delta Quadrant."  
  
Neelix had been delighted to help out, agreeing to search for news about the Starfleet vessel. Two more interminable weeks had passed before Reg had contacted Chakotay again. "Neelix found that Dauntless missed the exit coordinates by some one hundred light years," he'd reported, "right in the middle of the Okingala Empire."  
  
Chakotay knew of the Okingala from Voyager's days in the Delta Quadrant, a highly militaristic society with closed borders and controlled space much like what they'd experienced with the Devore. He and Kathryn had decided to skirt their territory to avoid the red tape and endless delays of an entrenched bureaucracy, and so his experience was indirect. Predictably, Neelix had been denied access to Dauntless' exit coordinates until he'd been granted the proper clearances, a process that could take weeks, but he had been able to obtain a long distance scan of the area.  
  
Reg paused, and the distressed look on his face made Chakotay's blood run cold. "I'm afraid that the scan revealed only a debris field."  
  
"What?" Chakotay's worst fears were being realized. "Are you sure it was the Dauntless? Did it explode, or did the Okingala destroy it?"  
  
"It's too soon to know what happened," Reg replied, "but Neelix has promised to continue his investigation. We've begun a detailed study of the debris field and will let you know what we find out."  
  
Reg's continuing updates brought little hope. Neelix sent another, more detailed scan that revealed a Starfleet signature in the debris. He later reported that it contained the proper amount of mass and biomatter to have been Dauntless. He said that no ion fields had been found leading from the site. There was no evidence of shuttle or escape pod launches, no evidence of survivors.  
  
Chakotay heard the words, but kept their implications at bay until he could return to the privacy of his apartment. He felt numb as Tom and B'Elanna walked with him through the San Francisco streets in heartbreaking silence.  
  
Once in private, B'Elanna voiced her skepticism with her usual Klingon fire, "Dauntless wouldn't have exploded like that. It might emerge from the slipstream out of control, but it wouldn't blow up! There has to be some other explanation."  
  
Oblivious to her chatter, Chakotay heard the word "biomatter" rattle endlessly in his brain. Biomatter referred to flesh and blood, skin and bone, clothes and boots. People. People like Kathryn, whose biomatter was now scattered in the cold vacuum of space. He'd never see her smile or hear her voice again. He'd never be able to tell her how sorry he was for his childish behavior.  
  
His world began to close in on him as the reality of his loss became clear. Exhausted, grief-stricken, and filled with remorse, he'd turned on his friends in fury, "But it did happen, B'Elanna! It happened and they're all dead. Finding out why or how won't bring them back!" A huge sob wracked his body as tears spilled from his eyes. "She's gone. Dear God, she's dead. Kathryn!"  
  
Tom put his arm around the wilting man and guided him to the sofa where he collapsed in tears. The next days were a blur as grief ripped through his soul. The doctor kept him sedated until he was able to better face his loss, and Chakotay had treasured those hours of oblivion when he could simply sink into unconsciousness and forget the cause of his agony. But slowly, day by day, he accepted what had happened and found the strength to face his loneliness and pain. He fought depression and despair by becoming the liaison between Starfleet and the families of Dauntless' crew.  
  
He repeatedly sought an answer through meditation, hoping his spirit guide would in some way help him accept his fate and understand why Kathryn had been so cruelly taken from him. Each time, his spirit guide had brushed against him affectionately, her huge golden eyes sympathetic and sad. She repeated again and again that Kathryn would not be gone until he let her go, a cryptic message he couldn't understand. He stayed busy during the days, and suffered through the nights, his dreams filled with their happy days together.  
  
The memorial ceremony and the reception that followed lasted for hours, leaving him emotionally drained and physically tired. Late that afternoon, as he was preparing to escort Gretchen back to Indiana, Tom Paris signaled him from the door. "I'll be right back," he told her as he followed Tom into the hall.  
  
"I wanted to apologize for B'Elanna's not coming today, Chakotay."  
  
He'd noticed her absence, of course. B'Elanna had continued to feel responsible for the accident and spent every waking hour pouring over sensor logs, studying Neelix's scans, and running countless simulations in an attempt to explain what had "really happened" to the ship. "Is she sick?"  
  
"No. Neelix sent Starfleet some new information yesterday, and she's been locked in the study with it ever since."  
  
"Tom, I'm afraid she's become obsessed with this. It's been nearly four months. She needs to move on."  
  
"I know. I talked to the doc about it, but he says she has to work through it at her own pace. She loved Kathryn and the rest of the crew, you know, and she feels like she failed them in some way."  
  
"Then we have to convince her that she did nothing wrong. They'd want her to be happy and live her life, not wallow in guilt like this."  
  
"Yeah, I know that."  
  
"Bring the kids to the lake next week. Maybe I can talk some sense into her."  
  
"If anybody can, you can. We'll be there, Chakotay. And thanks."  
  
He watched Tom walk down the deserted hall, and then rubbed his face in frustration. As hard as it was, the time had come to let Kathryn go.  
  
"Would you like a cup of coffee?" Gretchen offered as they approached her dark house.  
  
"I just want to go home and go to bed."  
  
"Back to San Francisco?"  
  
"No, with all the people here for the memorial, I'd never get a quiet moment. I'm going to spend a few days at Lake George. I need some time to think."  
  
She put her hand on his arm and studied his face, looking for signs of depression or despair. "If you get lonely or need someone to talk to, I'm here."  
  
"I know that, Gretchen, and it means a lot to me." He hugged her and gave her a kiss on the cheek. "Do you want me to see you in?"  
  
She grinned. "Why? To check for bogeymen under the beds?" She sounded and looked so much like Kathryn that he looked away, trying to hide the tears in his eyes. "Thanks, Chakotay, but I'll be fine. Get some rest and call me in a day or two."  
  
"I will." He recognized an order when he heard one.  
  
"And Chakotay," she put a hand on his shoulder, "you'll always be part of our family."  
  
"Thanks," he whispered, hurrying into the darkness.  
  
The cabin at Lake George was a three kilometer walk from the nearest transport station, but Chakotay welcomed the exercise and fresh air. The moon was full and its creamy light made the scenery especially beautiful. He and Kathryn had often arrived late in the evening after a long day of work. She'd called this their "road to relaxation," claiming that they left the pressures and cares of their busy careers behind them with each step they took. In colder weather, they'd walk with their arms around each other, seeking the warmth and comfort of each other's bodies.  
  
Chakotay had loved the day-to-day intimacy of their lives, the mundane moments of closeness that defined their relationship. The way she smelled the first cup of coffee each morning before she took a sip, the feel of her body against his as they slept, the way she smiled when she saw his face on her computer screen, the way she handed him a peanut butter and jelly sandwich instead of telling him that she'd ruined dinner again, the way she brushed her hair every night, all of these and other scenes came back to him with a poignancy that took his breath away.  
  
He stopped to watch some wispy clouds pass across the moon. Two wives in seven years. He'd lost two wives in seven years, and there were times when he wanted to scream with the pain of his loss. At least with Seven he'd had a sense of closure, a chance, although brief, to tell her goodbye and make sure she knew how much he'd loved her. He'd held her in his arms as she'd drawn her last breath, smiling into her face as the light died in her eyes, and the memory of that moment had always comforted him. As difficult as it had been to watch her die, he'd been there for her when she'd needed him most.  
  
But, with Kathryn, whom he'd loved with a deeper passion, who'd been a recurring theme in his life since the first time he'd first seen her, he had no such sense of closure. She was simply gone, and only now, months later, was the permanence and the significance of her absence beginning to sink in. In spite of their long friendship and happy marriage, there were things he still needed to tell her, comfort he still needed to receive. He'd hoped to have the rest of his life with her, and he still couldn't accept that it wouldn't happen, that he'd have to learn to live without her.  
  
Fighting back tears, he let himself into the cabin and made his way to their bedroom by the moonlight shining in the windows. The big bed gleamed at him, its white comforter seeming to glow in the moonlight. "I don't know why we need such a big bed," he'd laughed as she snuggled up to him one night. "The way you spend the night cuddled up to me, we could get by with a cot, the way we did at the snow camp." She'd simply laughed and snuggled closer.  
  
He missed her, every day, and although everyone told him the pain would lessen with time, he knew it wouldn't. Tears welled up and his throat closed in a sob. He stretched out on the bed, his arms and legs spread wide, trying to feel her presence in the smell of the pillows, the softness of the comforter. "Kathryn," he moaned through his sobs. "Oh, Kathryn, what do I do now?"  
  
The morning dawned dark and cold, with heavy clouds and a steady drizzle that made sleeping late a foregone conclusion. Chakotay slept so soundly that he didn't hear his name called from the front door and didn't hear a woman's step in the hall.  
  
"Chakotay! Wake up!"  
  
He opened his eyes, confused. "Kathryn?"  
  
"It's B'Elanna. Did you sleep in your clothes?" She sat down on the side of the bed, rubbing his back. "Poor thing."  
  
He rolled over and gave her a withering look. "What's wrong? If you came to apologize for missing the ceremony yesterday, Tom's already explained what happened."  
  
"No, it's not that, although I am sorry I wasn't there for you. I've spent the last forty-eight hours going over the latest batch of information from Neelix. He was finally able to visit the debris site in person."  
  
Irritation flared. Chakotay crawled out of bed and headed for the bathroom. "Look, B'Elanna, it doesn't matter any more. Let it go."  
  
"You might hear her through, old man." Tom Paris leaned against the bedroom door. "It's pretty damned interesting."  
  
He looked from one to the other and gave up. "Give me a few minutes. Fix some coffee or something."  
  
"Spoken like a true Janeway," Tom muttered.  
  
Twenty minutes later, Chakotay appeared in the kitchen with wet hair and wearing sweatpants and a t-shirt. "Do I smell bananas?"  
  
"Yes. Because B'Elanna loves banana pancakes, she thinks they're the staff of life."  
  
Chakotay chuckled. "I missed dinner last night. I'll eat anything." He was halfway through a stack when he gave B'Elanna a long look. "These are actually pretty good. You said Neelix finally got into Okingala space. How did he manage that?"  
  
"Bribery, I imagine. I think there's a pretty healthy black market operating in the Empire."  
  
"I always figured him to be an operator. So, what did he find?"  
  
"Not only did he get a close-up scan of the debris, he got samples." She shoved a PADD toward him.  
  
Chakotay studied the readout and frowned. "This almost looks like a Cardassian signature."  
  
"Not almost, Chakotay," she crowed. "It is Cardassian. The debris field is mostly Starfleet, but there's a Cardassian signature mixed in, as well."  
  
He put down his fork. "I don't get it."  
  
She took the PADD and called up another screen. "This shows there were both Starfleet and Cardassian weapons' fire. Dauntless didn't explode. It was destroyed by a Cardassian ship at close range, but not before the Cardassians were destroyed, too."  
  
Chakotay shook his head. "That makes no sense whatsoever. How could a Cardassian ship have gotten 30,000 light years from here? Isn't their slipstream project years behind ours?"  
  
"Yes. But, if they can get us to slow down, they'll catch up." Starfleet had suspended Kathryn's project pending a determination of what destroyed the prototype. The Cardassians had already gained nearly six months.  
  
Suddenly, the pancakes in Chakotay's stomach felt like lead. The Cardassians had slaughtered nearly his entire family, destroyed his village, pillaged his home planet, and now they'd murdered his wife. He reined in his temper, but his voice was deadly calm. "How did they do it?"  
  
"They probably piggy-backed," Tom said. "You know that the field generated by the Dauntless is big enough to take another ship or two along with it."  
  
B'Elanna handed him a second PADD. "This is the telemetry of Dauntless when it entered the transwarp conduit. Notice the energy spike?"  
  
"What would cause something like that?"  
  
"Lots of things. We noticed it, of course," B'Elanna shrugged. "The power readings were within normal parameters. Now I realize it was the shuttle. A cloaked shuttle. And it probably stayed cloaked for the whole six weeks they were in the conduit."  
  
"Where did they get the cloaking device?"  
  
"There's no way to tell, but I'd guess the Romulans." B'Elanna flipped through a few screens. "I might be able to piece it together with a little more analysis."  
  
"Wouldn't Dauntless notice the extra power drain caused by the piggy- backed ship?"  
  
"Not necessarily," B'Elanna answered. "It was a small shuttle, and the extra power required would've been negligible. But, Kathryn had six weeks with almost nothing to do but study the engines, and I know from experience that even a one percent dip in power would eventually drive her crazy. She'd systematically eliminate all the possible causes, and then she'd start on the impossible ones—like a cloaked vessel."  
  
Chakotay fought against the fury building in him. They all knew that the slipstream drive created a crippling drain on the engines and that when Dauntless reentered normal space, she would be without shields or weapons for ten to fifteen minutes while the engines recovered.  
  
"Dauntless would've been a sitting duck." He frowned. "But, wait. Didn't you say there was evidence of Starfleet weapons' fire?" When B'Elanna nodded, he asked, "Could they have solved the energy drain problem?"  
  
"Not unless Kathryn changed the laws of physics."  
  
"She could've fired on the ship while they were still in the slipstream."  
  
"But she didn't. I think the shuttle must have been very close to the Dauntless, too close. Destroying the shuttle, or even crippling it, could've thrown them out of the slipstream or damaged Dauntless beyond repair."  
  
"But, how else could they have fired on the Cardassians?" He stood up and paced, trying to figure out the problem. "The shuttle. Dauntless' shuttle would've had an independent power source and would've had weapons and shields available."  
  
B'Elanna smiled and gave Tom a wink. "I told you he'd figure it out. You owe me."  
  
Chakotay ignored the comment, pushing on with his theory. "Could they have opened the shuttle bay while in the slipstream?"  
  
Tom nodded. "In fact, opening the bay could account for their overshooting the exit coordinates. I spent half the night working it out."  
  
"So, the shuttle fired from inside the shuttle bay and took the Cardassians out with them."  
  
"That's what I thought, too, at first," B'Elanna agreed. "But then I remembered that we're talking about Kathryn Janeway. She wouldn't have settled for that. She'd want to take out the Cardassians and save the Dauntless, if she could."  
  
His eyes were distant, unfocused. "She always said that when you don't like the choices, change the parameters. You have a theory, don't you?"  
  
"I think she intended to deflect the Cardassian weapons with the shuttle's shielding and then fire on them before they could react."  
  
"Is it possible to launch a shuttle and leave the slipstream simultaneously?" Chakotay wondered.  
  
Tom snorted. "I spent the other half of the night trying to figure that one out. It would be a rough ride for the shuttle. I'd give it a fifty-fifty chance of leaving the shuttle bay in one piece. They'd have shields and weapons, but flight control would be nearly impossible. I'd give the whole plan less than a thirty percent chance."  
  
"Something is better than nothing," Chakotay mumbled. "It might've worked. And even if they failed to deflect the weapons, they could fire on the Cardassians when they dropped their cloak. They were probably hoping to cause enough damage to prevent them from destroying Dauntless."  
  
"It was the only chance they had to save the ship," Tom pronounced. "Really, it was a courageous idea."  
  
"So all three ships were destroyed."  
  
"Maybe, but not here," B'Elanna said, pushing the PADD toward him again. "These scans of the debris found enough mass for Dauntless and a shuttle, and we assumed the shuttle was the one in her shuttle bay. But this shows it was a Cardassian shuttle, not a Starfleet one."  
  
"I'm confused. What happened to the Dauntless' shuttle?"  
  
B'Elanna shrugged. "I don't know. If its shields were at full power when the Dauntless' warp core breeched, it could be anywhere in a two sector radius."  
  
"Wouldn't it have been destroyed?"  
  
"I don't think so, although close proximity to a warp core breech is never a pleasant experience. The shuttle might've been disabled, but the crew probably survived."  
  
"How many would've been on the shuttle, I wonder?"  
  
"No more than four."  
  
Chakotay walked to the front windows and watched the rain drip from the trees. Kathryn would've commanded the shuttle, he was sure of it. She wouldn't relieve Captain Strong of command, and she wouldn't think of letting anyone else take the shuttle when the odds for success were so low. And even if she weren't on the shuttle, somebody was, and they were now stranded 30,000 light years from home. He turned to his friends. "Has Starfleet seen this information?"  
  
"They gave me this copy two days ago when it came in," B'Elanna answered. "I haven't talked to them about it."  
  
"Do they know what you know?"  
  
B'Elanna shook her head. "I doubt it. They won't even look at it until Monday."  
  
"And you haven't taken this to them?" Chakotay asked.  
  
Tom gave his wife a long look and sighed. "We didn't think it would do much good. The Cardassians aren't about to admit that they sabotaged the mission. They'll say Neelix's data was garbled in transmission, or that someone faked the readings to put the blame on them. They'll say our scenario is flawed, that there was no battle, or even that the Okingala's ships and weapons are such a close match to theirs that we've been mislead. It'll take forever to resolve the issue."  
  
"Diplomacy." Chakotay said it as if it were a dirty word. It was diplomacy that had put Dorvan V in harm's way, and it was diplomacy that had prevented Starfleet from protecting its innocent citizens. "You're right. They'll let the Cardassians get away with destroying the ship. At most, they'll file a protest with their embassy." He clenched his fists, furious. "And what about the survivors in the shuttle? What will happen to them?"  
  
"Nobody knows for sure that anyone survived," B'Elanna replied softly. "But we can ask Neelix to find out all he can about an alien shuttle showing up somewhere in the region."  
  
"Good. Do that. We need all the information we can get about their location."  
  
"What can we do to help from here?" she wondered.  
  
The room was silent. Chakotay imagined Kathryn piloting the shuttle, enduring a torturous launch from the Dauntless only to witness its destruction. She would've enjoyed blowing up the Cardassian ship, and she wouldn't have cared what happened afterwards. But he cared. He cared a great deal. The beginnings of a plan took shape in his mind.  
  
"Until or unless?" he mumbled, remembering his spirit guide.  
  
B'Elanna narrowed her eyes. "What did you say?"  
  
"Did she say Kathryn would not be gone until . . . or unless I let her go?"  
  
Tom shook his head. "Did who say what?"  
  
Chakotay didn't explain. His spirit guide had said that Kathryn wouldn't be gone unless he let her go. "We have to go find them and bring them home."  
  
"We're talking about the Delta Quadrant, Chakotay," B'Elanna reminded him. "Thirty thousand light years from here."  
  
"I realize that. But we do have the Arturis."  
  
"I hope I know where you're going with this," Tom said.  
  
Chakotay gave him a brief glance. "Wasn't there discussion about sending the Arturis to the Delta Quadrant in a series of shorter slipstream jumps?"  
  
"Yes, but that was before we found out that Dauntless had been destroyed," B'Elanna replied, slowly. "Starfleet won't risk another crew and the Arturis to check on a handful of survivors who may or may not be alive."  
  
"They probably won't. But I will."  
  
"Oh, boy," Tom grinned, rubbing his hands together. "You're going to need a good pilot."  
  
He gave his friend a grin. "Where is the Arturis, B'Elanna?"  
  
"On Starbase 25, in dry dock. But it's returning to Utopia Planetia in the next month or so."  
  
Chakotay's mood lifted. Last night he'd wondered whether he could live through another day, yet today, for the first time in months, he was excited about the future. He had something to live for. He had hope. Real hope. "That's perfect. Are you two willing to help me?"  
  
Tom could barely contain his excitement. "We wouldn't let you do this alone, old man."  
  
B'Elanna merely sighed, resigned to her fate. "Once a Maquis, always a Maquis."  
  
  
  
* * to be continued * * 


	12. Arturis, Part 2

Chapter 12: Arturis, Part 2  
  
Chakotay walked through his San Francisco apartment surrounded by ghosts. He could see Kathryn everywhere, in every room. He saw her curling up with a book on the sofa in front of the fireplace; eating breakfast while standing at the kitchen counter, a mug of coffee in one hand, PADD in the other; brushing her hair in front of the bathroom mirror; working long hours in the study; stretching out on their bed, her hair fanned out on the pillow, her smile an invitation for him to join her. Gretchen had been after him to put away Kathryn's things, to move on with his life, but he wasn't ready to let her go.  
  
He stood at the window looking toward Starfleet Headquarters, wondering how the meeting concerning Neelix's newest discoveries was progressing. He wished he could have attended, but knew better than to try. Admiral Travers barely tolerated him in social situations and would probably reject his presence at an official meeting, especially without Kathryn's direct intervention.  
  
Time crawled by, and it was late afternoon before Reginald Barclay arrived. Chakotay could tell by the look on his face that he brought bad news. "Come in, Reg. I'll get us some tea."  
  
Reg made his way to the living room sofa where he collapsed in exhaustion. "The briefing lasted nearly four hours," he reported. "They heard everything we had to say."  
  
Chakotay handed him a steaming mug and sat down across from him. "Let me guess. Admiral Travers was unconvinced."  
  
Reg studied the former Maquis captain. "Unconvinced and unmoved. I thought you'd be more upset."  
  
"I didn't really expect Travers to come to the rescue based on what we have so far. He's not the type to stick his neck out for anybody except himself." He leaned back and relaxed into the chair. "But, I had to give the proper channels a try for Kathryn's sake."  
  
"Travers said Neelix's transmission was probably garbled, or perhaps his readings of the debris were distorted by the explosion of the slipstream drive. He even suggested that the data was artificially implanted by the Ferengi again the way my hologram was." Reg squirmed in his seat, still embarrassed by the deception that had almost destroyed Voyager.  
  
"Frankly, that's what I expected him to say. I bet he even suspects Neelix of some sort of plot. Maybe he's captured the Dauntless and wants the Arturis, too."  
  
Reg smiled. "He implied it. He doesn't know how loyal Neelix is to Admiral Janeway and Voyager's crew."  
  
"So he isn't going to recommend using the Arturis to check out what really happened? To make sure there aren't survivors?"  
  
"The idea was never seriously discussed."  
  
Chakotay frowned. This was exactly what he'd thought would happen, but the reality of it was upsetting. Starfleet always errs on the conservative side, he'd heard Kathryn say a dozen times, and Dallas Travers was the worst. "How about the construction of the second deep space prototype?"  
  
"He thinks it would be unwise to pursue the same design until they discover what went wrong with Dauntless."  
  
"And how are they going to find that out from 30,000 light years away?" Angry, he stood up and walked to the mantel, picking up a photo of Kathryn with Voyager's senior staff assembled around her in the ship's mess hall. He picked it up, studying her face. She'd been such a determined, indefatigable leader, never wavering in her mission even in the face of insurmountable odds. "And what about the survivors?"  
  
"He doesn't believe there are any." Reg looked miserable. "But, for what it's worth, I think there are, and I think we need to help them get home."  
  
Chakotay turned to face him, his eyes dark with determination. "Then you'll help us?"  
  
"Did you really have to ask?"  
  
* * * * *  
  
"It's not for sale."  
  
Neelix struggled to hide his shock and disappointment when Ruiz, the Rencasi leader, showed him the scarred and gutted shell of a Starfleet shuttle. "I don't want to buy it. Do you mind if I scan it?"  
  
Ruiz studied the Talaxian, and then nodded at her second in command, Lanthos, as she walked away. "Make sure he doesn't take anything. And erase any details on our supplies, just in case."  
  
Neelix opened his scanner and studied the black marks on the exterior, grimly noting that they were caused by a warp core breech, but not weapons' fire. "May I scan the inside?"  
  
"I'll have to delete your records of the supplies," he said, "in case you're real motive is something quite different."  
  
"I'm interested in what happened to the shuttle, not in your supplies. You can delete what you want."  
  
Lanthos silently activated the hatch, revealing an interior filled with stacks of phaser rifles and grenades, power cells, body armor, flashlights and flares, and boxes of emergency rations. None of it was Starfleet, however. Nor were there any sign on the shuttle's interior walls, seats, or consoles.  
  
"Was it stripped like this when you found it?" Neelix waited for a reply and then said, "I'd pay a good price for seats, consoles, whatever you took out."  
  
Lanthos shrugged. "We used the seats in our own ships. Some of the panels are now walls in the cabins in the settlement. You can have whatever we aren't using for the right price."  
  
"I'll take it all, whatever you'll sell me."  
  
Neelix spent the next four hours scanning scrap metal and reclaimed technology before he beamed a large pile of debris to his ship. Ruiz counted the credits Neelix had paid for them with a look of satisfaction on her face. It wasn't every day that she ran across a fool willing to pay top dollar for junk. Neelix walked toward her with a big smile on his face.  
  
"Ruiz, I wonder if you'd tell me about finding the shuttle?"  
  
She could see no reason not to tell him. "It was adrift in the Druan system, in the asteroid belt between the fifth and sixth planets. I think it had been towed there by whoever found it first. The nacelles had been sheered off, and the shuttle had been stripped of almost every usable part. If we hadn't needed it for a storage shed, we would've left it there."  
  
"Were there any signs of the occupants?"  
  
"Not that we could see." He could tell that she, too, was curious about the alien vessel, but she wasn't about to quiz him on it. Between mercenaries, there was an unspoken line they wouldn't cross. "Come back any time you need more supplies," she said, dismissing him.  
  
Neelix beamed back to his ship where Dexa, his wife, waited for him. "What did you find out?"  
  
"The shuttle was found first by pirates, either Rencasi or Borodai," he said, plotting a course to the Druan system. "They would've taken the survivors, too, and, if they were alive, put them to work. Or, if they were seriously injured, they might've just left them somewhere."  
  
She shivered at the thought. "There were survivors?"  
  
He sighed. "It's impossible to know for sure. However, one of the consoles was configured the way Captain Janeway always preferred, and there was human blood on one of the seats. Whoever was on the ship was still alive. The pirates would've left the dead bodies on board."  
  
"So what now?"  
  
He grinned at her. "I 'need' more Starfleet equipment, so we'll start searching for it on the black market and see where that leads us. Maybe we'll even be able to find someone who can repair and maintain it."  
  
Dexa smiled. "You amaze me, Neelix."  
  
He thought back to his days closer to Talax, where he'd made his living trading reclaimed and salvaged materiel. "Actually, except for the sadness of it all, I'm having fun."  
  
* * * * *  
  
"Are they really shutting down the project?"  
  
B'Elanna Torres looked up at the young ensign in charge of supply at Utopia Planetia and shrugged. "I hope they resume the research soon, but only time will tell. They want to find the flaw that made Dauntless explode, first."  
  
The ensign snorted. "You and I both know the ship wouldn't just explode like that. Something else happened. They just don't want to admit it." He leaned toward her and whispered, "I've heard that some of the admirals never had any faith in the slipstream drive."  
  
So Travers' prejudice was common knowledge. "Well, they aren't engineers. They don't understand the technology."  
  
"Then, they should believe the ones who do."  
  
She smiled at him, figuring this was the best time to give her scheme a try. "Not everyone is as insightful as you are, Ensign. Too bad you aren't one of the admirals." The guy actually blushed, so gullible that B'Elanna idly wondered if he could be related to Harry Kim. "Just one last thing. I want to check the benamite crystals. I know I'm being a little anal-retentive, but they'll be critical to the program when we get started again."  
  
The ensign hesitated, unsure whether she still had access to the critical supplies since the project had been deactivated. "Well . . . ," he started.  
  
"You can watch my every move," she assured him. "I won't be in there five minutes."  
  
"Okay." He walked with her to the vault where she keyed in her clearance code. Tuvok had promised her that it would still be active, and, sure enough, the door opened smoothly. The ensign was visibly relieved.  
  
B'Elanna rested her hand on the security console and then entered the room. The quick scan of the crystals took less than five minutes, however, and soon she was on her way.  
  
Unnoticed by the ensign, B'Elanna had placed a tiny computer chip on the console. Later that night, it would briefly disrupt the force field before it self-destructed. But not before she and Tom beamed the benamite out. She left the building and was crossing the street when her husband joined her.  
  
"How'd it go?" he asked her.  
  
"Piece of cake."  
  
* * * * *  
  
Gretchen Janeway enjoyed cooking and looked forward to Chakotay's regular Thursday night dinner visit. In the months since Dauntless' departure, their already close relationship had deepened considerably as they had comforted one another. This Thursday night, Chakotay walked toward the farmhouse uncharacteristically nervous about seeing her. He couldn't remember being so apprehensive about his mother-in-law since his first visit years earlier just after Seven's death, when he was still uncertain about his relationship with Kathryn.  
  
He and Kathryn had been married in Gretchen's back yard during a spectacular June sunset some five years earlier. Only a select few attended the wedding-Gretchen, Phoebe and her husband, Tom and B'Elanna, Chakotay's sister and her husband-and he could still remember how the golden sunlight had been like a blessing on the ceremony. The reception, by contrast, had been huge, including the Voyager crew, their Starfleet contacts, neighbors in San Francisco and Indiana, and friends from throughout the Federation. It had been held in nearby Bloomington and had been his first meeting Mark Johnson, Kathryn's fiancé when Voyager was pulled into the Delta Quadrant.  
  
"I never really thought Kath would get married," Mark had told him after offering his congratulations and shaking his hand. "Every time I pressed her to set a date, she left on a six-month cruise."  
  
Chakotay smiled. "I thought that you'd set a date when she took command of Voyager."  
  
"Yes, we had," he laughed. "And then she disappeared for seven years."  
  
"That wasn't her idea, you know."  
  
Mark just looked away, watching the crowd, thoughtful. "She waited a long time for you."  
  
"I'm not sure I know what you mean." Everyone knew that their relationship had endured seven years in the Delta Quadrant as captain and first officer and then his marriage to Seven of Nine, but Chakotay had a feeling Mark was talking about something else.  
  
"I mean that she knew the kind of man she was looking for. In Justin, she had the consummate soldier, but someone who was never really in touch with his emotions. In me, she had a philosopher and communicator, but I didn't know one end of a phaser rifle from the other. But you, Chakotay, you have it all."  
  
Chakotay had been instantly taken back to an incident that had occurred during Voyager's final year when a temporal anomaly had fractured the ship. He'd interacted with a Kathryn from seven years earlier, from before the time when the Caretaker had pulled the ship into the Delta Quadrant. They'd worked together smoothly, as always, easily slipping into the banter and friendship that marked the first years of their relationship. At one point, however, she'd stopped and stared at him with open admiration in her eyes. "You're a philosopher and a soldier," she'd said, solemnly appraising him. "Your Starfleet file doesn't do you justice."  
  
He looked at Mark Johnson and grinned, "And I always thought it was my dimples."  
  
He looked up from his reverie to see Gretchen staring at him from the front door of the farmhouse. "Are you coming in or not?"  
  
He took the porch steps two at a time and gave her the usual hug and kiss on the cheek. "I was just waiting for a special invitation," he teased.  
  
Later, they took coffee to the screened porch and enjoyed the peaceful sounds of an Indiana summer night. As they sat in silence, enjoying each other's company, Chakotay fretted about bringing up the news he needed to share.  
  
Much to his surprise, Gretchen turned to him and said, "What is it that you need to say, Chakotay?"  
  
Relieved by her typical Janeway directness, he said, "I wanted to tell you that I'm leaving earth for awhile."  
  
"Really? Where are you going?"  
  
"I'm telling everyone I'm going to Dorvan V to visit my sister."  
  
"And what are you telling me?"  
  
"Something closer to the truth." He spent the next few minutes explaining the revelations of Neelix's close up scan of the debris field, information that had yet to be shared with the public or Dauntless' crew's families. "I think the shuttle crew probably survived the explosion," he concluded, "but Admiral Travers doesn't think so. He thinks the possibility of survivors is too 'speculative' to share with anyone until it's been confirmed."  
  
Gretchen stood up and walked to the porch railing, obviously upset by what she'd heard. "Is it possible that Kathryn was on the shuttle?"  
  
"I think it's more than likely she was." He joined her, putting an arm around her shoulders to comfort her. "But even if she wasn't, part of her crew was, and I don't think we should desert them in the Delta Quadrant."  
  
"You're talking about the Arturis?" When she looked at him for an answer, he said nothing, and his silence told her exactly what he intended to do. "What can I do to help?"  
  
He smiled. "You'll be hearing all kinds of rumors about me in the next few weeks, and I'm sure you'll be questioned by the press. Tell them that you've heard rumors that there might have been survivors. Just mention it, Gretchen, and let the journalists pursue the truth."  
  
She turned to him, clearly concerned about his safety. "You'll be back?"  
  
He remembered a similar conversation with Kathryn and echoed her words. "There are always risks. If things go well, I'll be back in a little over three months, maybe a few weeks longer. If I can, I'll keep you posted through Reg Barclay and the MIDAS array."  
  
She put her head on his shoulder. "I can't bear to lose Kathryn and you, too."  
  
He put his arms around her. "Maybe I'll bring her home with me."  
  
* * * * *  
  
The process of taking Arturis out of dry dock lasted more than a week, but B'Elanna Torres and Tom Paris, who had volunteered for the duty, didn't seem to mind. The first thing B'Elanna did was tell the two ensigns assigned to ferry the ship back to Utopia Planetia that their assistance would not be needed until later. Always looking for party time, the two young officers gladly spent the week socializing on the Starbase while Tom and B'Elanna poured over all of Arturis' systems, testing and retesting each one to be sure it was working perfectly.  
  
B'Elanna spent four days initializing the slipstream drive, even though it wouldn't be put to use for the brief trip to Utopia Planetia. And when he wasn't checking and rechecking the helm and navigation, Tom spent his free time fooling around with the computer, supposedly designing and testing a holodeck program for his kids, but actually setting up a series of false engine readings.  
  
Once Arturis was tethered outside the dry dock, Tom and B'Elanna moved out of their quarters on the Starbase and took up residence on the ship. Tom quietly carried their essential supplies onto the ship, including a heavily shielded box of curious construction. However, no one was there to ask them what it contained.  
  
B'Elanna set the box down next to the slipstream drive housing and carefully opened it, the blue glow of benamite crystals casting an odd shadow on the walls.  
  
"Are they okay?" Tom asked.  
  
B'Elanna scanned them carefully, nodding. "They look fine. The beam out from Utopia Planetia apparently didn't hurt." She lifted one and carefully placed it in the housing, twisting awkwardly to seat it in the proper attitude. If these pilots were as careless as she thought, they wouldn't even notice that the crystals had been installed.  
  
"How long will this take?"  
  
"Give me two hours. Then we'll store the excess crystals in the shielded storage area. Are you ready?"  
  
"The program wasn't nearly as taxing as Captain Proton, my dear. After all, it only has to fool a couple of ensigns into believing that the faulty slipstream drive is about to explode."  
  
She gave him an irritated look. "If it doesn't work right, Tom, the whole thing will blow up in our faces."  
  
"It'll work. Don't worry." He watched her for a few minutes as she strained to get the crystals in position, and then said, "Can I help?"  
  
"Sure," she said, crawling under the console. "Hang around and when I take a break you can rub my aching back."  
  
Tom's face lit up. "My pleasure!"  
  
"Some things never change," she said, giving him a wink. "Thank goodness."  
  
* * * * *  
  
Neelix sat across from Dexa as she dumped a bag of Starfleet equipment she'd bought on the black market on the table between them. They'd started taking turns seeking the material to avoid creating suspicion, and, if anything, Dexa had proven herself an even less suspicious purchaser.  
  
"There was twice as much available in this system as the last," she said as she watched him sort through the pile. "I think we're heading in the right direction."  
  
"Hypospanner, power conduit, hypospray, plasma relay. This is a nice sampling."  
  
"But not what you're looking for?"  
  
He pulled a small oblong piece of plastic from the bottom of the pile. "What's this? A PADD?"  
  
"PADD?"  
  
"A 'personal access display device.' Starfleet personnel use them to store important information."  
  
"But this one's useless or they wouldn't have sold it to me."  
  
Neelix wasn't discouraged. "I've worked with these a lot over the years, and I know some tricks they don't. Set course for the next system while I see what can be done." He reached across and gave her hand a squeeze. "You've done a great job, Dexa. I don't know what I'd do without you."  
  
"I just hope we can track them down. No one seemed to know anything about survivors, but I did hear that we're moving into a section of the Empire inhabited by the Borodai."  
  
`"Well, we'll just keep looking. Captain Janeway never gave up, and neither will we. It's just going to take patience, Dexa." He watched her leave the room and stared at the PADD in frustration. "Now, what secrets are you hiding, I wonder?"  
  
* * * * *  
  
Chakotay and Mike Ayala had spent the last few days hiding in a class seven nebula along the route Arturis would take from Starbase 25 to Mars. Quarters were cramped on the small shuttle, but the two men had learned to make do during their years with the Maquis and got along fine. Every day or two they would emerge from the nebula to check in with Reg Barclay, usually getting little more than a reassurance that the plan was unfolding. This time, however, he sent them a large bundle of information.  
  
"Looks like Neelix sent us another update," Chakotay said as they headed back to the nebula. Once they were safely hidden, Chakotay went to the back bench to see what they'd received. He was gone a long time, but Ayala resisted the urge to check on him. Chakotay would tell him what he needed to know when he needed to know it.  
  
"Brought you some lunch," Chakotay said as he resumed his seat.  
  
"Good news?"  
  
"Neelix found a fused panel from the shuttle that was in Kathryn's preferred display pattern."  
  
Starfleet's modular panels could be easily programmed into a pilot's preferred display, putting navigational or control areas in a spot they found most convenient. Over time, the displays became so individualized that they were referred to as the pilot's "fingerprint," and shipmates could tell who'd last piloted a shuttle just by glancing at the display. Kathryn Janeway, ever the scientist, was famous for putting sensor data at the top of the panel for easy reference.  
  
Ayala nodded. "That's good, right? That means she could still be alive?"  
  
"Yeah. That's good." Chakotay knew Ayala was right, that he should be glad to know that his suspicions were right. She had been on the shuttle, but where was she now? That question hung unspoken between the two men as they ate their evening meal. "I'll take the first watch, if that's okay with you."  
  
"Sure, Chakotay, whatever." He made his way to the back of the shuttle, wishing he could think of something to say that would reassure his friend that his wife was alive and well.  
  
But only time would tell.  
  
* * * * *  
  
Tom and B'Elanna turned Arturis over to the two ensigns and resumed their journey toward Dorvan V, supposedly to pick up some household goods they'd had stored there for the last five years. At least, that's what they told people they were doing. In fact, they were heading to the same nebula where Chakotay and Ayala were hiding. It hadn't been easy to leave their kids with Tom's parents, but with any luck, they'd be back soon enough.  
  
Before they left the ship, B'Elanna warned the young pilots about some anomalous readings in the warp core. "I've pulled the whole engine apart twice. I'm thinking maybe there's a problem with the sensors themselves inside the housing. Maybe the engineers at Utopia Planetia can find it."  
  
Cocky and exuding a confidence that reminded Tom of his early days on Voyager, the two ensigns brushed off the warning and started the preflight checklist. They were anxious to fly and weren't too worried about malfunctions on such a short trip.  
  
"So far, so good," Tom murmured as they left the ship.  
  
Eighteen hours into the flight, Arturis' computer reported that its antimatter injector had frozen in the open position, causing a runaway reaction in the core. Unable to stop the flow or eject the core, the ensigns aimed Arturis toward a nearby nebula to minimize the damage caused by a core breech and used an escape pod to save their lives.  
  
They were too busy guiding the pod away from the upcoming explosion to notice the shuttle that popped out of the nebula and transported four people aboard the Arturis just before it disappeared into the nebula. They did notice, of course, the warp core breech that occurred inside the nebula a minute or so later, but they didn't bother to scan it and make sure it was proper size and intensity to be the Arturis.  
  
They were too busy congratulating each other for escaping from the obviously flawed slipstream vessel to notice Arturis when she emerged from the far side of the nebula and set course for the Delta Quadrant.  
  
* * * * *  
  
Neelix and Dexa slowly worked their way through the sector looking for Starfleet material and asking questions about survivors. They were becoming well known as individuals who paid well for what they purchased, a fact that was both good and bad. It was good because people tended to seek them out, instead of vice versa. It was bad because people sometimes exaggerated or even fabricated information that was misleading.  
  
They'd been through an especially trying period when Dexa beamed back to the ship late one night. She could tell that Neelix was depressed when he failed to greet her with his usual enthusiasm and didn't grill her about the information she'd gathered.  
  
"Is everything all right, Neelix?"  
  
He held up the PADD and sighed. "I know this has to have important data on it, but I can't get it to work. I wish B'Elanna was here."  
  
She pulled a tricorder out of her bag. "Maybe this will help?"  
  
Neelix's face immediately lit up as he took the device from her. "If we can find a power source, I can see if it's working properly." Minutes later, the tricorder chirped and its display came to life. Neelix swung his wife around in joy. "This could make the difference, Dexa. This might get the PADD to work properly."  
  
Before he could return to work, Dexa caught his arm. "The only other thing I could find down there was this."  
  
He took the small metal object out of her hand and studied it closely. An admiral's rank bar. "Did they say where it was found?"  
  
"They said there were three people on the shuttle. One of them was wearing that."  
  
He sat down in surprise, his heart pounding. "Go on."  
  
"The shuttle was totally without power when the pirates found it, and the three people on board were unconscious, close to death. They were taken to a remote Borodai outpost, but no one ever heard if they were successfully revived."  
  
Neelix looked down at the admiral's bars with tears in his eyes. "We're going to assume they're alive until we get proof otherwise," he choked, slipping the bar into his pocket. "In the meantime, we find out about these Borodai and what's stored on this PADD."  
  
Dexa heard the determination in his voice and looked at him sympathetically. He loved everyone from Voyager and couldn't face the possibility of Kathryn's death.  
  
"Of course," she agreed, patting his hand. "We'll look until we know for sure."  
  
* * * * *  
  
In the weeks since Arturis' mysterious loss and the simultaneous disappearance of four of Voyager's former Maquis crew, rumors had been running wild throughout Starfleet and the Federation. When it had been discovered that Arturis had not exploded in the nebula, everyone thought the four Maquis had probably stolen it. Were they going to the Delta Quadrant to discover what had happened to their beloved former captain? Were they going to use the ship for some terrorist plot against the Federation?  
  
Gretchen Janeway looked through her curtains at the crowd forming at the end of her sidewalk. She'd told a few of her contacts in the media that she had some comments to make about the situation, and, as a result, about three dozen reporters and photographers were waiting for her appearance.  
  
She remembered well what Chakotay had told her to do. Starfleet had never made public Neelix's reports implicating the Cardassians and hinting at the possible survival of some of Dauntless' crew. Apparently, Admiral Travers was still unwilling to accept the possibility that a cloaked vessel had been able to travel so deep into Federation space without detection, unwilling to disturb the uneasy peace following the Dominion War. When Neelix reported finding the shuttle's stripped shell, Travers had assumed that all hands were lost and thanked him for his help. He was unaware of Neelix's continued investigation or his occasional communication with Reg Barclay.  
  
Gretchen made her way down the sidewalk to the gate and stood there looking like everyone's idea of the perfect eighty-five-year-old grandma. Behind her was the same traditional home that everyone remembered from the days when Voyager was lost and she'd been interviewed about her daughter. She raised her hands, and the crowd quieted. "One at a time please," she said, pointing to the first reporter who caught her eye.  
  
"Mrs. Janeway, do you have any idea of the whereabouts of your son-in- law, Chakotay?"  
  
"He told everyone he was going to Dorvan V," she replied calmly, pointing to the next questioner.  
  
"Can you speculate why no one on Dorvan has seen him? Why has he and the other three Maquis disappeared from sight?"  
  
"When we last spoke, he was concerned about reports of survivors from Dauntless' explosion." This was news, and the cluster of reporters momentarily clamored for more detail. She again held up her hand for silence before she continued. "He'd heard that a Starfleet shuttle had been launched from Dauntless and had survived the exlosion. As someone who had lived through a seven-year exile to the Delta Quadrant, he was deeply concerned about the well-being of any possible survivors."  
  
The clamor resumed, with several reporters asking whether Chakotay could have hijacked Arturis and headed for the Delta Quadrant. "He never said he planned to do that," she said smoothly, "and for me to say so would be sheer speculation. I have no way to find out the truth."  
  
The reporters fell silent, and she could see the wheels turning behind their eyes as they plotted their return to Starfleet Headquarters and decided which contacts would be the most reliable sources for this sort of information.  
  
"Are you alleging that Starfleet has covered up the possibility of survivors, Mrs. Janeway?" one reporter asked softly.  
  
She shook her head, her eyes troubled. "I hope not. I'd hope that Starfleet would do everything within its power to retrieve any members of Dauntless' crew stranded in the Delta Quadrant."  
  
Within the hour, the hallways of Starfleet Command buzzed with speculation as the admiralty called an emergency meeting with their chief of research and development. Had he not followed up on possible survivors? Had he really covered up the possibility of Cardassian involvement? By late afternoon, Admiral Travers sat before the commander-in-chief trying to explain why he had failed to use Arturis to travel to the Delta Quadrant, explore the Cardassian shuttle element, and search for possible survivors. Travers answered as best he could, but he knew that whatever happened next, his career had just ended.  
  
* * * * *  
  
Communication between Reg Barclay and the Delta Quadrant was haphazard, at best. Since the time Travers had stopped Starfleet's active participation in the ongoing investigation, Reg could only use the MIDAS array when it was being reoriented following its extended scans, and only then when it was pointed toward the proper coordinates. He sent and received information from Neelix only when the array was aimed at the tiny Talaxian settlement in the Delta Quadrant, and messages with Chakotay were possible only when the array was pointed toward the places and times where Arturis was to emerge from its three two-week jumps in transwarp.  
  
These problems made it impossible for him to contact Arturis following their first two-week jump, but things had changed dramatically by the end of the second one. Following Mrs. Janeway's revelations, Starfleet was allowing him access to the array, as needed, but, even so, Reg had to know where the ship planned to reenter normal space after each jump in order to contact them. If they had not prearranged these locations, communication with the tiny ship would have been impossible, like finding a needle in a haystack.  
  
Chakotay was pleased to see his friend's face. "Reg! What a relief. I'm glad things worked out for you to use the array this time."  
  
"Things have changed a lot in the last six weeks."  
  
Chakotay could feel the presence of Tom and Ayala behind him on the bridge, their interest in the conversation suddenly doubled. "Like what?"  
  
"Mrs. Janeway mentioned to the press that she'd heard rumors about survivors from Dauntless' explosion. Once the journalists got their teeth into it, Starfleet had a definite public relations problem."  
  
Chakotay smiled. "She has all kinds of contacts in Starfleet, you know."  
  
"Right." Reg smiled back. "The end result is that I can make use of the array on almost a daily basis, if I want. Plus, you guys are being hailed by the press as heroes for taking the rescue into your own hands."  
  
"That's good to hear," Chakotay laughed. "I've been worried about what Kathryn would do to me for reverting to my Maquis ways." He could tell by the look on Reg's face that he had bad news. "What's new, Reg?"  
  
"I want to stress that these are only rumors. Neelix is still trying to confirm what he's heard."  
  
Chakotay felt sick at his stomach. "Just tell me," he whispered.  
  
Reg told them how the pirates found a powerless shuttle with an unconscious crew on board, including one wearing an admiral's rank bar that Neelix had purchased on the black market. "He thinks he'll soon know where they were revived and track them down."  
  
Chakotay couldn't move, much less speak. He sensed that Reg meant "if they were revived." He'd told himself time and again that the odds were against finding Kathryn alive, but now that the facts were stacking up against success, he felt a fury building inside that made it impossible for him to breathe.  
  
"Neelix says not to give up hope, Chakotay. He told me to remind you that the admiral never would, and you shouldn't either."  
  
Chakotay nodded. When prospects looked impossible on Voyager, he occasionally handed Kathryn a PADD with a scan of a nearby M-class planet, dutifully listing all of its good qualities for settlement. After the first few times, when she'd simply become angry, she recognized it for what it was-the alternative-and she'd handed it back to him with a weak smile. "Not yet, Commander. I'm not giving up hope yet." Well, right now he wasn't ready for the alternative, either.  
  
Reg waited patiently for Chakotay to look at him again. "There's more?"  
  
"Neelix was also able to purchase a PADD that had been salvaged from the shuttle. It took awhile, but he finally accessed the information on it." He pushed a few buttons, absently looking away. "It contained the admiral's logs and some personal messages."  
  
Chakotay closed his eyes as his friends gasped audibly behind him. Farewell messages. "Her logs?"  
  
"She more or less confirmed the scenario we imagined. Let me tell you, Starfleet was really electrified by the news. Relations with Cardassia are touch and go, with a massive buildup on both sides of the border."  
  
"Dorvan V?" Chakotay didn't think he could bear to see his home planet ravaged by war a second time.  
  
"Firmly within the Federation, I assure you." There was a short silence. "I'm sending you the admiral's logs so you can hear for yourself what happened."  
  
Chakotay's voice was barely audible. "And her message?"  
  
"I'm sending that, too. It was addressed to you, Chakotay."  
  
Of course it was. He heard Tom stand up behind him and go below to engineering to tell his wife the news. "Anything else?"  
  
"Just this. He wants to be waiting for you when you arrive in the Delta Quadrant. How long before you get started?"  
  
Chakotay swallowed, trying to think. "A couple of hours. Tell him we'll be there in fifteen days at most."  
  
"I'll tell him." Reg regretted causing the pain he saw on his friend's face. "Don't give up hope, Chakotay, no matter what."  
  
He could only nod in reply.  
  
* * * * *  
  
To say that Kathryn Janeway's official logs electrified the Federation would be an understatement. They created a firestorm in Starfleet and brought about a close review of the actions taken about Dauntless and the delicate relations with Cardassia.  
  
Travers had assumed that Dauntless' slipstream drive had failed, and that assumption had led them astray. The fact was that the drive had worked perfectly and was deserving of further research and development. Instead, months had passed since work had been done on the project, and, in that time, Cardassia and Romulus had continued their own slipstream projects without pause.  
  
In addition, the incorrect assumption had prevented them from using Arturis as a viable rescue and investigative option, probably dooming Admiral Janeway and the other two survivors to slow, excruciating deaths in deep space.  
  
In light of Starfleet's failures, Chakotay's hijacking of Arturis, an act that was confirmed by his contact through the MIDAS array, seemed not only proper, but heroic in the public's eye. Unwilling to give up on the survivors under his wife's command, Chakotay and members of Voyager's crew had devised and completed a daring plan to travel to the Delta Quadrant and do what they could to discover what really happened. Public opinion was so strongly in favor of his actions that Starfleet had grudgingly agreed to provide whatever support they could to ensure its success.  
  
All this was of little comfort to Gretchen Janeway. She went about her daily life, watering her flowers, corresponding with the many who wrote to encourage her, playing with her grandchildren, but she was feeling the weight of too many years under stress, too many years of doubt and uncertainty about the well-being of her firstborn child. Each night she looked up into the stars and prayed for the safe return of her daughter and son-in-law, and each night the stars, though beautiful, were cold and unresponsive.  
  
* * * * *  
  
Once Arturis reentered the transwarp conduit for the final leg of her journey, Tom, B'Elanna, and Chakotay had time to sit down together to review Kathryn's logs. The making of official and personal logs was a Starfleet habit, yet they seldom had the opportunity to listen to someone else's in great detail. The logs were almost always oral, although there were times when video was added, and were generally recorded while the officer was busy doing something else, like reviewing a screen of data, or sitting on the bridge, or, in Kathryn's case, pacing and drinking coffee.  
  
When the playback began, Chakotay was unprepared for the sound of his wife's voice and buried his face in his hands, letting her familiar speech race through him like an electric shock. He felt B'Elanna's hand caress his shoulder as he struggled to control his emotions, but it was several minutes before he could make sense of Kathryn's words. He realized that the log began when she'd realized that Dauntless' mysterious power drain was caused by a "fuzzy" object off the port nacelle. The shadow was discovered during the middle of the sixth and final week of the test. She sounded cool, calm, and analytical, yet Chakotay sensed more than heard alarm and concern as she spoke. Unwilling to predict disaster, she knew it was possible that the shadow traveling beside them could mean serious trouble.  
  
As the logs progress through the last three days of the test, Kathryn became more and more serious. It was curious to listen to her reason through the evidence before her much as B'Elanna had done with the same information months after the fact. At one point, she'd even said, as B'Elanna had, that "once the possible explanations have been eliminated, it's time to consider the impossible ones."  
  
Her voice had been angry when she realized that the shadow was a Cardassian shuttle probably there to destroy the ship. She was determined to pilot the shuttle and to sacrifice herself and the volunteers with her to save Dauntless, yet, Chakotay could tell, she knew it would take a miracle to be successful.  
  
The final log done on Dauntless included video, and Chakotay gasped to see his wife addressing him in her usual forthright manner, dressed in her usual uniform, holding the inevitable mug of coffee in her hand. Oblivious to her words, he studied her face, seeing there exhaustion from three days of constant worry and determination to do whatever necessary to resolve the situation. She'd probably recorded a "final message" for him at the time, but it had been lost with Dauntless.  
  
It was anathema for a Starfleet officer to address a civilian in an official log, yet he was sure her final comment was meant for him. She looked away for a moment, as if she were deciding whether or not to say what was on her mind, and then, with a resigned sigh, she resumed.  
  
"There have been times on this journey," she stated, looking directly into the camera, and, Chakotay felt sure, speaking directly to him, "when I've wondered whether my presence on this test flight was really necessary. The drive has performed perfectly and has needed nothing more than the planned mid-flight adjustments during the six weeks it's been active. However, this situation, the threat of this cloaked vessel, has convinced me that my presence has been not only necessary, but essential to this crew. This is a research vessel manned almost exclusively by scientists with little or no combat experience. And while our proposed solution is a gamble at best, it at least gives Dauntless the possibility of survival."  
  
She went on to commend Captain Strong and her crew for their work and to congratulate them for their sacrifice which was in the highest traditions of Starfleet, etc. The three friends sat in silence once the log ended.  
  
"She thought she'd be killed," B'Elanna said. "No matter whether Dauntless survived or not, she was sure she was going to her death."  
  
"I always admired her guts," Tom admitted, "the way she was willing to do whatever she had to do for the ship and crew."  
  
"Because she loved them," Chakotay whispered, tears dropping onto his hands as he leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. "She always said that a good leader loves and serves the crew."  
  
B'Elanna rubbed his back as she gave Tom an alarmed look. "We've heard enough, don't you think? This is too hard."  
  
"No." Chakotay sat up, brushing his tears away. "I need to hear it all."  
  
B'Elanna kept her arm around him as they listened to the next log entry, recorded three days after Dauntless had exploded. She sounded depressed, her voice strangely muffled as she described the brief battle and their unlikely survival. The shuttle was in bad shape, its nacelles sheered off by the explosion and its impulse drive failing. She estimated that they would survive "five or six days" if they curtailed their power usage, and she hoped that they would be discovered by a non-hostile inhabitant of the sector before their power was depleted. Determined to survive long enough to report on the final hours of their mission, Kathryn stated that she would only update her log when and if important developments occurred in order to conserve power, but at least once a day.  
  
There were only four brief entries following her initial report, and with each of them, Kathryn's voice was strong and confident in spite of her increasing acceptance that help would not come. Her final entry was terse and official, commending her two fellow survivors for their fortitude, courage, and strength of character in the face of certain death. She sounded like an admiral, Chakotay thought, doing her duty until the very last moment.  
  
The log ended and the three friends once again sat in silence. All that remained was her personal message to Chakotay, which he had no intention of sharing with them.  
  
"Incredible," Tom said. "You'd think she'd lose control of her emotions! How did she keep their sanity?"  
  
"Kathryn wasn't the type to lose her cool, Tom," B'Elanna responded. "She probably continued to work on the shuttle or draft reports on the Dauntless until they froze to death or ran out of oxygen." She glanced at Chakotay, realizing that she was only making it harder by talking about their suffering. "Sorry."  
  
Chakotay felt numb and simply shook his head. "I think I'll go to my quarters and listen to her message."  
  
"Don't you want Tom or me to listen with you?" She was concerned about his state of mind and wanted to provide whatever support she could to her old friend.  
  
He gave her a weak smile. "She faced this by herself, and so will I." He picked up the data chip and walked slowly to his tiny quarters, engaging the privacy lock behind him. He thought it would be easier to hear her final words right away, when he was used to hearing her voice.  
  
He'd just spent the last six months mourning her, yet listening to her for the last hour made him feel her death as a fresh, raw wound. The possibility of her survival had been a lifeline to him, a chance for the happy ending he so desperately wanted, but this message, this farewell, would force him to face a different reality. Her unconscious body had been found on the powerless shuttle hours or days after she'd recorded these words, and the possibility of her survival was pitifully slim.  
  
He imagined what the inside of the shuttle would look like, the hoary frost on every surface, the frigid cold, the lack of oxygen. As the senior officer, Kathryn would retain a final hypospray of triox compound so that she could, in Starfleet's words, "put the ship in order and record a final personal message without the burden of command." She would wipe the computer of sensitive information, arrange the bodies of the dead or unconscious with dignity, and take care of her personal issues. When she spoke, the others would already be unconscious or dead. These words would be from Kathryn, his wife, not the admiral.  
  
Closing his eyes, he activated the recording, providing the computer the identifying information required to release a message that had been specified for him alone.  
  
"Chakotay," she said, sounding cold and breathless, "I want you to know that I'm not afraid to die. I've come to terms with what's happened and know that I've done all I could do. My only regret is that we parted on such poor terms, and I take the responsibility for that. I should never have let that happen." Her voice cracked and she took a deep breath. "I can't believe that I'll never see your face again, or hear your voice, or feel your arms around me. But, as always, I feel your presence with me here today and your love and support give me the strength to do what has to be done.  
  
"I don't want you to regret anything that's happened between us. I've had nothing but time to rethink our lives, and I'm convinced that everything that has happened was meant to happen as it did. Thank you for always being there for me, Chakotay. You never let me down."  
  
She paused, this time struggling to catch her breath. Chakotay buried his face in his arms on the desktop as he waited for her to speak, his heart breaking. When she spoke again, her voice was a whisper. "You can feel my presence, too, can't you? You have the best part of me with you and you always will. More than anything, I want you to be happy. You're the finest person I ever met, Chakotay, and you deserve all the good things life can give you. Loving you has been the best thing I've ever done, and being loved by you the biggest honor I've ever received.  
  
"I know how hard this is for you, I know how much you wish you could do something to help us, but don't feel guilty because you can't. Don't second guess your decisions. Some people think that dying takes courage, but I know better. It takes much more courage to keep on living." She stopped to cough, and Chakotay marveled at her generosity as she literally spent her dying breaths reassuring and encouraging him. "I love you, Chakotay, and I always have. Know that my last thoughts will be of you and of the incredible happiness we shared. I have loved being your wife and sharing your life. Never forget that I love you."  
  
Those were her final words, the three words he'd spent so many years waiting to hear. Tears streamed down his face. In spite of his belief that she was still alive, that he could still rescue her, he had to accept the fact that he might be too late. What would he do if he found out once and for all that she was truly gone? Did he have the courage to keep on living without her?  
  
  
  
* * to be continued * * 


	13. Hiding In Plain Sight, Part 3

Disclaimer: All these people belong to Paramount. I just get them out for fun.  
  
Hiding In Plain Sight (Part 3)  
  
Kathryn Janeway was exhausted, as she always was at the end of an eight-day work week on the Okingala home planet, Renden. The days were twenty-eight hours long, which left her in a constant state of transport lag, off balance with her own human biorhythms. In addition, the twelve- hour work shifts crawling around cramped spaces as a maintenance technician taxed her physical reserves to the limits. Her equally exhausted roommate, a Bajoran engineer named Fran Delia, had retired to the apartment's single bedroom an hour earlier, leaving Kathryn to take a hot bath, unfold the futon, and get ready to collapse into bed.  
  
She crawled under the covers with a sigh and turned on the newsvid to hear recent events and work on her fluency in Rendu, the Empire's equivalent to Federation Standard. She and Dee had become quite glib over the last six months, but Kathryn was determined to add words and idioms to her vocabulary on a daily basis. Most nights, the announcer's soft voice lulled her to sleep, but not this night.  
  
"Greetings. This is the Renden Late Night News Report read by Eddsom Re'Juron. Tonight's opening story is an exciting development in the search for the criminals responsible for the unexplained attack in the Rencasi sector.  
  
"As you may recall, six months ago an unidentified ship emerged from subspace some 200 lantacs from Rencasi Base 47and exploded in a fiery antimatter breech before Okingala defense forces could respond. Investigators have worked tirelessly to determine who was responsible for this invasion, but have been unable to find enough information from the debris field to make a positive identification.  
  
"Late this afternoon, a breakthrough was made. You are now seeing video of the remains of a small ship being used in a Rencasi camp as a storage facility."  
  
Kathryn sat up in bed, suddenly wide awake. The shuttle on the screen was the one they had used in their desperate attempt to save Dauntless from the Cardassian attack. She could clearly see the Dauntless's markings, NX-10010, emblazoned on its side.  
  
"The Rencasi, who were using the shell of the small ship as a storage shed, were unable to provide much detail as to its owners. They claimed to have found the stripped shuttle adrift in a nearby asteroid belt, but said that no one was aboard at the time.  
  
"We turn to a live report from the site-Rax Brandis, I understand you have an expert to provide us some additional information regarding this ship."  
  
"Yes, Edd, I have with me retired Retta H'Ordan, once a ship's commander in the security force. Retta, you've seen the remains of the ship. What's your opinion?"  
  
"The ship has obviously been in an antimatter explosion, Rax, probably the one that destroyed the mother ship, and was blown some light years away. It's been stripped of any usable technology, but the damage it suffered no doubt rendered it a hopeless hulk"'  
  
"And its crew?"  
  
"Well, that's the question, isn't it? Before this ship was discovered, we thought there were no survivors and the larger ship's explosion left precious little to study. However, if there were survivors, they may be hiding somewhere in the region, hoping for reinforcement or rescue."  
  
Kathryn listened to the rest of the interview with her eyes closed and her heart pounding. The Okingala were among the most xenophobic races she'd ever encountered. In fact, they had gobbled up surrounding territories, including the Rencasi and Borodai regions, to act as buffers between themselves and the aliens who resided in the rest of the Delta Quadrant. Their control of alien workers, like herself and Dee, was meticulous and detailed, including their forced residence in Renden's alien quarter, where Kathryn and Dee's apartment was located, a strict limitation on their employment, and a curfew that made it illegal for an alien to take so much as a walk after midnight.  
  
Luckily, their rescuers had never connected the two of them to the "attack" in the Rencasi sector. Kathryn's impression was that any survivors would be guilty of a capital crime, punishable by death, and so she and Dee were careful to distance themselves from the explosion, feigning ignorance of the event, and then sharing in the morbid curiosity that the rest of the populace exhibited.  
  
She felt as if she were in a fog, her mind reeling at the news as she tried to grasp the significance of the event unfolding before her. On one level, she was shocked to see the condition of the small ship from the outside. Even from the grainy video, it was obviously a wreck barely capable of sustaining life. That the shuttle had kept them alive for a number of days following the explosion was a credit to the engineers at Utopia Planetia and Starfleet's dedication to redundant life support systems.  
  
Numb with worry, she turned off the newsvid and slumped into the pillows, overwhelmed by the memory of the hopelessness she'd felt for those last days in the shuttle.  
  
She remembered opening her eyes to a dark, frigid environment. At first, she'd thought she'd been blinded in her right eye and reached up in panic to find a thick, clumsy bandage held in place by strips of material torn from her uniform and wrapped around her head.  
  
"Thank the prophets!" Lieutenant Fran's face appeared in her line of sight, bruised and dirty, but with a welcoming smile. "You're finally awake."  
  
She'd tried to speak, but produced only a croak, followed by a paroxysm of coughing.  
  
"Oh, Admiral, let me get you some water." As Dee raised her from the shuttle floor and held the flask to her lips, Kathryn looked around the shattered interior. Not a single console was operational, the air was cloudy with acrid smoke, and the stars visible through the viewport were tumbling slowly. The red emergency lights bathed them in a horrific hue, but revealed very little else about the shuttle's condition.  
  
"You want a report, don't you?"  
  
Kathryn nodded, still struggling to find her voice.  
  
Dee told her what she knew. They'd been blown clear of the explosion thanks to their shields, but had hurtled through space for two hours before she'd been able to slow their velocity and stabilize their flight as much as she could. "It was a miracle we didn't hit an asteroid big enough to destroy us." She'd spent the first frantic hours sealing a half dozen hull breaches and doing what she could to prevent a complete loss of power.  
  
The only working system was life support, and that was operating from battery power. They had no propulsion, neither warp power nor impulse, no communications, limited oxygen stores, and few medical supplies. "The medkit was crushed when that console over there collapsed on it," Dee explained, reaching out to touch the wrapping on Kathryn's head. "I know the bandage is awful, but at least the hypospray of pain reliever was undamaged."  
  
Kathryn was relieved that the young Bajoran engineer was a seasoned, experienced Starfleet lieutenant fully trained to deal with disasters like this. Also, she'd worked with the Slipstream team for years and no longer expected admirals to be infallible icons of knowledge. Even so, her face was full of trust and expectation when she looked at Kathryn, as if she believed that the admiral who had brought Voyager home would have some miraculous solution to their predicament.  
  
Kathryn asked herself why she hadn't just dropped shields and let the shuttle be destroyed in Dauntless' explosion, because without help, and soon, they were sure to perish. She swallowed painfully and squeaked out, "Jeff Munro?"  
  
Dee glanced at the dark region in the back of the shuttle where Dauntless' best pilot lay unconscious on the bench. "I don't think he's going to make it."  
  
Even after six months time, the memories of those last days depressed her. Shaking her head, Kathryn pushed those recollections away and tried to think instead about the crisis facing them now, in the very heart of the Okingala Empire. The investigators had found the shuttle; how much longer would it be for them to find its surviving crew? Sleep was impossible, so she gathered up the blanket from her bed and let herself onto the balcony to watch the stars.  
  
At this hour, the alien sector of the capital city was under a tight curfew. The streets sixteen floors below were deserted, except for the occasional emergency vehicle, and even the street lights were shut down, allowing the stars to become visible, glittering like diamonds in the moonless, velvet black sky. Kathryn settled onto the lounge chair with a sigh, finding the constellation "Spider Web" and imagining, thirty thousand light years behind it, the yellow star Sol, and home.  
  
Only at these times, secure in her solitude and with Dee fast asleep, did Kathryn let her mind wander to Chakotay. Did he think she was dead? She tried to imagine what, exactly, Starfleet might know of Dauntless' fate. The ship had missed the planned exit point, but how far off course they'd gone and in what direction was something Starfleet could not determine from 30,000 light years away. Starfleet might think the ship had been destroyed inside the slipstream itself. They might believe that the drive had malfunctioned and left them high and dry somewhere in between home and the Delta Quadrant. All they'd really know is that Dauntless failed to contact them as expected. She'd been lost in space again, only this time with no ship and only one person as an ally.  
  
She snuggled into the blanket. She looked up at the stars, trying to remember Chakotay's face, the delicate design of his tattoo, the soft caress of his voice. She imagined the advice he'd give her, encouraging her to find a way to contact him, to let him know she was alive. If he knew, he'd find a way rescue her. She knew it in her bones.  
  
Hours later, she heard a familiar voice: "What are you doing out here at this hour?" Kathryn Janeway burrowed deeper under the thin blanket and stifled a moan, escaping into her dream.  
  
She raised her eyes to the sight of her husband standing in the doorway wearing nothing but a pair of boxers, his hair tousled from the bed, his eyes squinting in the light. "Kathryn, it isn't even 0500," he complained. "Come back to bed."  
  
She took advantage of the chance to admire his body, noticing the muscles that moved beneath the smooth golden skin, the gracefulness of his powerful physique as he leaned against the door post. She felt her pulse quicken at the sight of him. "That bird outside the window woke me up. What is that thing? A rooster?"  
  
He smiled. They'd arrived on Dorvan V late the night before as part of their honeymoon and had collapsed into bed without bothering to unpack so much as a toothbrush. He was looking forward to showing her his home, but not this early in the day. "It's a dawn lark."  
  
"Well," she replied, gesturing at the dark sky visible through the window, "somebody needs to tell the little beast that dawn is when the sun comes up."  
  
Smiling, he crossed the room and perched on the arm of her chair. "What're you reading?"  
  
She felt the warmth of his body and closed her eyes briefly, resisting the urge to run her hand down his thigh. "A letter from B'Elanna?"  
  
"'A letter from B'Elanna'?" He snorted. "I bet it's a Starfleet report."  
  
She lowered the padd and looked up at him, feigning innocence. His eyes were full of laughter. "And if it is?"  
  
He picked up the PADD and read the subject line. "'Probable Causes of Microfractures in Benamite Crystal Housing.'" He sighed, giving her a stern look. "Kathryn. Your first day on my home world as my wife, and you're up at the crack of dawn reading about benamite crystals?"  
  
"After that damned bird started his clatter, I was restless. I was afraid that if I stayed in bed tossing and turning, I'd wake you up."  
  
He leaned down and nuzzled her hair, his breath warm on her ear. "What if I did wake up? What are you afraid of?"  
  
She shivered with pleasure, her body responding automatically to his nearness. "Your morning breath?"  
  
He laughed and slid into the chair beside her, taking the padd and dropping it to the floor behind him as he turned her to face him. "I'm afraid I won't allow you to become a Starfleet admiral until after the sun comes up."  
  
She buried her face in his neck and slid her arms around his waist, breathing in the familiar scent of his warm skin. "Then, you need to teach your little dawn rooster to start screeching later in the day."  
  
"Dawn lark. My people call his early 'song' the love alarm."  
  
She melted into him as he drew her into a deep kiss. "Do tell," she breathed.  
  
"They claim that if a couple makes love when he crows each morning, their marriage will be long and happy."  
  
"Every morning?" She laughed, trying to remember a time in her life when she'd been this happy. "We'll be here two weeks. Shall we test the theory, darling?"  
  
The voice persisted, interrupting her dream. "Kathryn! Kathryn Janeway! Did you hear me? What are you doing out here at this hour?"  
  
"Chakotay?" She sat up in her chair, confused and freezing cold. "What? Where am I?"  
  
Fran Delia helped her out of the lounge chair. The admiral only pulled stunts like this when she was seriously depressed. "You've fallen asleep on the balcony again. Is something wrong? You're liable to get sick sleeping out here in these temperatures."  
  
Disoriented by her dream and worried about Dee's reaction to the news of the shuttle's discovery, Kathryn stumbled into the apartment and collapsed onto the sofa, shivering cold. "Could you fix me some tea?"  
  
"Of course." Dee hurried to their galley kitchen while Kathryn burrowed under the covers of her bed, grateful for their warmth.  
  
Dee had never panicked, and for that Kathryn was immensely grateful. But more than that, she'd turned out to be a good friend. At first, on the shuttle, they'd maintained their Starfleet ranks, but once they were on Boroda, once they realized that they had only each other to rely upon, rank disappeared, replaced by a growing trust and understanding.  
  
In their first hours on Boroda, when they were both unconscious, they were treated by a gifted and creative doctor named Bana Orodin who single handedly saved their lives. He spent hours repairing Kathryn's burned and lacerated face, carefully rebuilding the Bajoran folds of skin he thought had been on her nose, assuming that her face should look like her partner's. Although they had both been horrified by the change initially, Dee had convinced her to keep the "disguise."  
  
"We'll be much less conspicuous around here if we're of the same species," she'd argued. "And once we're home, the doctors can restore your human features." So far, Kathryn had not regretted their decision.  
  
Dee brought tea for both of them, and Kathryn quietly filled her in on the discovery of the ship. They spent the hours until dawn discussing the implications of its discovery, desperately wishing they could remember more details of their rescue.  
  
"The Borodai said that where the Rencasi pirates found our shuttle was light years away from where Dauntless exploded," Dee said. "Apparently, they made no connection between the two ships."  
  
"No, because they were more interested in stripping it than they were in turning it into the authorities. The Okingala no doubt studied the shuttle's hull composition and discovered that it has many of the same metals and composites as Dauntless, and in similar concentrations." She finished her tea, which had warmed her up. She finally felt her toes again.  
  
"But the reports said the Rencasi who had the shuttle lived on a planet. The ones who found the shuttle were pirates."  
  
Kathryn shrugged. "The group using the shuttle as a shed is not the same one that found us originally. But I don't think it'll take long for the Okingala to find out that there were three people on the shuttle and start looking for us. The Rencasi often turn over survivors like us to the Borodai. The security forces may already be searching there for us."  
  
The two women sat in silence, trying to imagine what would happen next. None of the options made them feel secure.  
  
"Kathryn, do you think the Borodai would turn us in?"  
  
"Their religion requires them to protect the weak and victimized. To admit that they'd falsified our papers would not only be immoral, it would put them, and us, in deep trouble with the Okingala government."  
  
"I hope you're right, Kathryn, because we're smack dab in the middle of the Empire. It won't be easy to fold our tents and sneak away in the night."  
  
A buffer region for the Okingala home territories, the Borodai routinely in-processed alien workers who arrived on transports from outside the Empire, and they asked very little about their backgrounds. In their weeks on Boroda, their hosts had asked nothing about where they had come from or why they arrived so seriously injured.  
  
Kathryn suspected the Borodai of telepathy, although they denied it, claiming that they could tell from their actions that the two women were "stratam," which, in their language, meant "of good faith." Although their hosts did not expect repayment for their medical treatment, they did as much as they could to reimburse them. Kathryn and Dee did all they could, within the confines of the Prime Directive, to upgrade and repair their technology, and the Borodai had done all they could to make them feel at home, providing them with a comfortable apartment and money to spend.  
  
Even so, Kathryn remembered her previous exile in the Delta Quadrant with irony. Then, she'd felt alone, even while she'd been surrounded by one hundred fifty crewmembers and a state-of-the-art Starfleet vessel. Now, with only Dee beside her, she knew loneliness and vulnerability really meant.  
  
Those first weeks, she'd focused on getting well. She'd been grateful to be alive, to have miraculously survived the Cardassian attack and the failure of the shuttle. But her eyes always strayed to the sky, to the stars, toward home. As pleasant as life was in Boroda, she wanted to go home and struggled against the despair that weighed her down.  
  
"If Starfleet knew we were alive," Dee said one day, "they'd come for us."  
  
Kathryn knew she was right, but hesitated to voice her doubts about their rescue. She asked, "So, how do we let them know we're alive?"  
  
Dee grew thoughtful, and then said something ridiculous to lighten the mood. "Maybe we can talk the Borodai into building a subspace transceiver that can send messages 30,000 light years?"  
  
"Like the MIDAS array." Kathryn sat up straighter, her eyes wide. "Why not?"  
  
"Because, the Borodai don't have a need for that kind of technology, of course. I was just kidding."  
  
"I don't mean they should build one. Why not use Starfleet's MIDAS array?" She stood up and started pacing. "The Federation has maintained occasional contact with Neelix as a sort of 'Delta Quadrant Good Will Ambassador.' You could say he's Reg Barclay's personal project. If we can get to the Talaxian colony, we can let Starfleet know we're alive the next time Reg contacts Neelix."  
  
Dee shook her head. "You're dreaming. Do you realize how far the Talaxian colony is from here? It would take years to get there."  
  
"Maybe." Kathryn stopped pacing, her hands on her hips. It might take years, but it would work, and it would be something concrete to work toward. "Do you have a better idea?"  
  
"Not at the moment."  
  
"We can get work permits from the Borodai and find jobs on transport vessels heading in the right direction. I hear there are high paying jobs on Renden for technicians. We can live frugally, save our money, and buy passage on ships heading toward the Talaxian colony. It may take time, but it's a goal worth working toward."  
  
Dee nodded, beginning to see the possibility of success. "Why not? It beats sitting around here doing nothing."  
  
Hope fuels many desperate plans, and so, they'd begun their journey across the empire, confident that their papers were irrefutable and that their identities were safe. "Since they don't know who or what they're looking for," Kathryn had concluded, "we can hide in plain sight."  
  
And the plan had worked perfectly, until now. Soon, the security forces would find someone who'd seen them, someone who could describe them well enough to put them in danger of being apprehended. But how soon?  
  
"Do we stay put or run?" Dee wondered.  
  
"I picked up my check last night. If you get yours today, we'll have enough saved to purchase tickets to the Crossroads space station."  
  
"Still in Okingala space."  
  
"But halfway to the border, and in the opposite direction. I think we'd better be ready to go day after tomorrow."  
  
The decision made, Dee dressed for work and left Kathryn to pack their few belongings and take care of the details involved in vacating the apartment, closing bank accounts, and doing all the chores needed to be done when moving. For the first time in months, Kathryn was conscious of herself, worried about looking and sounding alien, afraid that someone would grab her and accuse her of a crime. When she finished, she quickly returned to the apartment to await her roommate.  
  
She hadn't told Dee, but she felt certain that their chances of making it to the Talaxian colony had been drastically reduced. She considered, again, whether they should simply turn themselves in. From what she'd seen of the Okingala justice system, their story of accidental trespass into Okingala space and the unexpected Cardassian attack would be met with disbelief. She had only Dee to support her account, a person who had everything to gain by convincing them.  
  
And, how could they explain their months of hiding? To the xenophobic Okingala, it would seem as if they had been using the time for spying. No, they'd endure a quick, well-publicized trial and spend the rest of their lives in prison; unless, of course, they were executed.  
  
With a sigh, she picked up a scanner and studied the ugly looking clump of technology she'd pieced together-an emergency beacon designed to transmit on a Starfleet channel. "You can't worry about what it looks like," she remembered telling B'Elanna more than once on Voyager. "Just make sure it works." She attached a power cell and activated the device, using a cast off tricorder she'd taken from work to check whether the subspace transmission was functioning properly. At first, the signal was completely wrong, but Kathryn fiddled with it, bringing it into the proper wavelength and then steadily increasing its power and range. Thrilled with her success, she let the device function for a good thirty minutes before shutting it off. Success at something, no matter how small, felt good.  
  
Dee burst into the apartment at the end of the day, just as Kathryn had packed up the makeshift equipment she'd assembled-two simple communication devices, the rudimentary tricorder, and the emergency beacon. She held up the last item, showing it to Dee. "I got the beacon working today."  
  
"I thought you had it working a couple of days ago."  
  
"For about ten minutes before it malfunctioned. This time it lasted a half hour before I turned it off."  
  
"Great. Now any Starfleet vessel within a million kilometers will hear it and come to our rescue."  
  
Kathryn grinned at the woman's sarcasm. "Stranger things have happened."  
  
Dee sat down across the table from her, and, for the first time, Kathryn realized that she was extremely upset. "Dee, what's happened? What's wrong?"  
  
"You haven't been watching the newsvids?"  
  
"No. The pictures of the shuttle were everywhere this morning when I was doing my chores. They depressed me so much that I decided to stop watching them. Why? What's new?"  
  
Dee gripped her hand. "They found Jeff's body."  
  
"Oh, no." Her heart was in her throat.  
  
"And the Rencasi told them there were two others on the shuttle with him. Two more of his species."  
  
Kathryn stood up, starting to pace. "So they're looking for two humans, not two Bajorans."  
  
"Yes. But, Kathryn, they have his DNA. What if they start DNA testing on recent immigrants, like us?"  
  
"They'd start with those still in the Rencasi or Borodai sectors. The sooner we head off in the other direction, the better." She saw the panic on Dee's face and put a comforting hand on her shoulder. "We'll leave tomorrow as we planned."  
  
"Won't everyone here be suspicious when we leave so suddenly?"  
  
"I don't think so. They have no way to connect us to the shuttle, and they all know we've planned to leave for Bajor as soon as we have enough credits saved up. And we do have enough."  
  
Dee nodded, but she was still worried. "This might not be the best time to travel. They might start screening travelers, you know."  
  
"I know, but we can't wait. Why don't you go clean up and I'll fix something for us to eat."  
  
Kathryn mechanically warmed up leftovers as she let herself be tormented again by the "what ifs," as Chakotay called them.  
  
What if she'd discovered the cloaked Cardassian ship earlier in the six week test? What if she'd had enough time to figure out how to launch the shuttle and retain helm control so she could thwart the Cardassian attack? What if she'd brought Tom and B'Elanna, her best pilot and engineer, on the test? Would they have made a difference in successfully launching the shuttle and defeating the Cardassians? What if she'd listened to her heart and delayed their departure until her husband was back from his book tour? Would the Cardassian ship have been discovered before they left the Alpha Quadrant? What if they'd stayed put on Boroda, or headed out of Okingala space instead of through it?  
  
Would any of it have made a difference?  
  
At this point, she kept telling herself, it no longer mattered. Survival. All she could do was survive and wait and hope that someone from Starfleet would rescue them. With a pang, she remembered how Chakotay had worried about her becoming stranded in the Delta Quadrant. She could still hear the concern in his voice when he'd asked her, "Who'll rescue you this time, Kathryn?" It had seemed so absurd, so unlikely, that something like that would happen to her twice in one lifetime that she'd brushed him off.  
  
But, now, she wondered, who?  
  
As hard as it was for her to admit, she'd underestimated the Cardassian threat. Perfecting the slipstream drive would upset the delicate balance of power that had existed since the end of the Dominion War. Starfleet argued that the drive was not an offensive development, but she knew quite well that any technological advance carried with it the potential of being used as a weapon. Both the Cardassians and the Romulans were working on a similar form of propulsion, she knew, and so she discounted the threat.  
  
Her eyes narrowed when she remembered the first time Chakotay had expressed his reservations about the Cardassian fears regarding Dauntless' test flight. She'd worked late, as usual during those last weeks, and had arrived home at nearly midnight, expecting to find the apartment dark and her husband fast asleep. Instead, he sat in the living room reading, soft music playing.  
  
"Waiting up for me?" she asked, stripping off her jacket and sitting down beside him to unzip her boots.  
  
"Sort of. I was thinking about this letter from Mike Ayala." Ayala served as Dorvan V's chief of planetary security and kept Chakotay apprised on the planet's safety. "He picked up some interesting readings along the Cardassian border not long ago."  
  
"Really?" She took the PADD from his hand and gave it a cursory review. "I doubt that it's anything to worry about."  
  
"Easy to say from this far away. However, Mike thinks the Cardassians have acquired a cloaking device from the Romulans." At her skeptical look, he retrieved the PADD and tapped in a couple of commands. "Doesn't this look like a cloak shadow to you?"  
  
She frowned as she studied the sensor readings. "It could be a cloak shadow or a dozen other things. Had he calibrated the sensors first?"  
  
Chakotay was not pleased by her reaction. "He's not new at this, Kathryn. The shadow is real."  
  
She held up her hand in acquiescence. "I didn't mean to question his reliability. Did he report this to Starfleet?"  
  
"Of course. They sent a scout ship to investigate, but by the time it arrived, the shadow was gone. They told him that the diplomats would address it with the Cardassian ambassador."  
  
She laughed, absently pulling one of her aching feet into her lap to rub it. "I know how you feel about diplomats."  
  
Chakotay grabbed her knees, pulling her feet into his lap and beginning to massage them. She leaned back with a contented moan. "That feels so good."  
  
"Why don't you just admit that you're short and wear comfortable shoes?"  
  
"I'm not short," she said, glaring, her mouth twitching up in a smile.  
  
"Of course not. You wear three inch heels for fun." She chuckled, yet felt herself relaxing and stifled a yawn. "I know you're sleepy, Kathryn, but I'm worried about this."  
  
"What?" she murmured, already drifting off to sleep. "The sensor shadow?"  
  
"I think the Cardassians are more upset than you realize about the slipstream drive. I'm worried that they'll use this cloak to sabotage Dauntless."  
  
She opened an eye slightly. "Taking up prognostication? Or did your spirit guide tell you this?"  
  
"I'm not kidding, Kathryn," he replied evenly, struggling to keep control of his temper.  
  
"I'm sorry, darling," she said, pulling her feet out of his lap and crossing her legs so she faced him on the sofa. She regretted her words and wished she could snatch them back. Scientist that she was, she also acknowledged that there were things she didn't and couldn't know, and she respected her husband's incredible intuition. "I didn't mean to belittle your beliefs. Forgive me?"  
  
"You're a snot when you're tired," he smiled, pushing a strand of hair out of her eyes. "But, really, why else would the Cardassians be sneaking into Federation territory? Their complaints about the drive have been strident, yet have brought about no results whatever."  
  
"I can think of a dozen reasons the Cardassians might be spying on us," she disagreed, suddenly awake. "You're just worried because the ship is my job. Remember that Dauntless is under tight security all of the time. Cloaked ship or not, they couldn't get close enough to sabotage it." She regarded him thoughtfully. "If I went to Travers and said that a sensor shadow near Dorvan V represented a threat to Dauntless at Utopia Planetia, he'd think I was hallucinating."  
  
"Travers doesn't have to know a thing. Is it asking too much to simply run a periodic scan for a cloak shadow?"  
  
"No, it isn't. Tomorrow, I'll order periodic scans." He'd won, yet he still looked uncomfortable. "What else? I'm tired and need to go to bed."  
  
"B'Elanna says you're going on the long range test flight to the Delta Quadrant."  
  
"Yes." She had put off telling him, fearing his reaction, and now he'd heard it from someone else. "I forgot to mention that."  
  
"Don't go."  
  
"I have to go."  
  
"I have a bad feeling about this, Kathryn."  
  
She knew how to deflect this problem, scooting toward him on the sofa. "You're worried about me. How sweet."  
  
"I'm not just worried about you." His eyes darkened with irritation as she moved toward him. He knew she was trying to change the subject. "The ship's in danger."  
  
She snuggled against him, running her hand beneath the sweatshirt he wore, feeling his warm, smooth skin. "We'll be careful." She raised her head, suddenly wide awake and aroused. "I have everything to live for."  
  
He gave her a wicked smile that told her he knew exactly what she was doing. "Kathryn, we're not finished talking about this . . ."  
  
"Shhh." She kissed him as his hands cradled her face and she pressed herself against him. "I'm not the admiral now, remember? Not until dawn." And then he'd kissed her until she could think of nothing but him, lost in the feel of his skin against hers, of his lips and hands touching her, of the wonder of his body working his magic upon hers.  
  
Kathryn was so caught up in the memory of that night that she was surprised to open her eyes and find herself in the tiny kitchen thousands of light years away. Tears sprang to her eyes, and she brushed them away with the back of her hand, unwilling to let Dee see her crying. It wasn't the first time she'd discounted Chakotay's intuition, and it wasn't the first time she'd lived to regret it. She should've listened to him, should've taken his advice.  
  
"Kathryn! Come here!" Panic filled Dee's voice as she shouted from the living room. The newsvid was on again, Kathryn realized. Perhaps there'd been some developments.  
  
"What is it?" she asked as she rushed into the room, wiping her hands on a towel. Dee pointed wordlessly at the screen where the announcer was speaking.  
  
"Repeating this important breaking news. Late this afternoon, officials arrested two aliens attempting to enter the capital city who matched the description of those being sought for the Rencasi terrorist attack. DNA scans indicate that they are the same species as the man found buried in the Rencasi sector. Here again is the video of the men being transported to Renden holding facility. They're expected to be arraigned tomorrow."  
  
The screen switched to a blurry picture of the street outside the Renden alien processing center where two handcuffed individuals were being roughly hustled into a waiting paddy wagon by half a dozen policemen. When the camera zoomed in to show their bruised and bleeding faces, Kathryn's heart stood still and Dee cried out in surprise.  
  
"Tom Paris," Kathryn whispered, her eyes wide with fear. "And Chakotay."  
  
To Be Continued 


	14. First Contact, Part 4 Conclusion

Disclaimer: Starfleet and everything fun belongs to Paramount. Nobody would pay for this! 

Chapter 14: First Contact, Part 4 (conclusion)

Kathryn Janeway was not the emotional type, even as a child, and years of Starfleet training had taught her to react logically to the most dreadful events, to think on her feet, to push emotion away and deal with it at a later time, when action was no longer needed, when the catastrophe was over. Her years on Voyager had only strengthened that natural tendency. Time and again, she'd faced disaster with a cool demeanor, knowing that her calm attitude on the bridge was essential to the crew, to her younger, less experienced officers who tended to panic.

She'd seen a nearly a fifth of her crew killed when the ship was snatched into the Delta Quadrant. Three times, she'd lost control of the ship-to the Kazon, to the Hirogen, and to the Maquis portion of her own crew-without so much as a whimper. Through dozens of catastrophes, she'd kept herself and her crew focused on finding a solution and left the emotions for later. She'd had to face those feelings eventually, of course. Most of the time, she found release in some sort of vigorous physical activity, perhaps tennis or velocity on the holodeck, but only rarely did she resort to tears of rage and frustration in the privacy of her ready room or her quarters, and never in the presence of her crew. She never exhibited the depth of her feelings to her crew. Never.

However, the sight of Chakotay's face on the Okingala news report was overwhelming in an unexpected way. He was here, in harm's way, because he'd come to rescue them, and she was powerless to offer him any kind of assistance. His actions, and Tom's, too, were personal and touching and breathtaking, emotions too powerful to be ignored. She felt as if her heart had exploded in her chest, as if the atmosphere had been drained of oxygen, as if the gravity of the planet itself had shifted, leaving her light-headed and off-balance. She swayed slightly on her feet until she felt Dee's arm slip around her waist, leading her to the sofa.

"Kathryn, you're as white as a sheet. Sit down before you faint."

She looked up at the Bajoran woman. "I'm not hallucinating? This isn't a dream?"

Kathryn had often dreamed that Chakotay was with her. Almost every night, she sensed his presence in her sleep and awakened the next morning surprised to find the bed beside her cold and empty. Three times in the last six months she'd followed a tall, dark-headed man through Renden's streets, quickening her pace to catch his attention, only to have the stranger smile at her indulgently when she realized her mistake and backed away, stuttering an apology. There had even been moments of drowsiness when she thought she'd heard his voice speaking her name and had awakened fully alert, expecting to find him smiling down at her. Had those moments of longing finally broken through to her conscious mind?

Dee nodded at the screen. "Are you asking whether Tom and Chakotay are really here? They are unless we're both having the same nightmare."

Well, Kathryn remembered, shared dreams were possible, but unlikely. Once Voyager's entire crew had been trapped in a single dream, but that had been light years away from here. She shook her head, her mind struggling to deal with the reality before her. "How can this be?"

"Arturis?" Dee guessed, sitting down beside her. "Maybe Starfleet sent Arturis to find out what happened to us?"

Kathryn considered that possibility. Of course, it would have to be Arturis. But, Starfleet had refused to allow civilians on Dauntless' routine test flight to the Delta Quadrant, in spite of her best efforts to include them. Would they send civilians on a military mission like this-to seek out a ship that had mysteriously disappeared 30,000 light years away? For all they knew, Dauntless had been destroyed by a hostile fire from a Delta Quadrant predator and any reconnaissance vessel would meet the same fate.

"Arturis can hold only four people comfortably, Dee. I can't imagine that that Starfleet would send Tom and Chakotay on a dangerous rescue mission like this, can you?"

"Not really. But, whether I believe it or not, they're here."

"Yes. And, they're under arrest."

They watched the screen as the reporter interviewed some of the people who'd witnessed the arrest and who'd shared the transport from the Crossroads with the aliens. One woman holding a baby spoke into the microphone while the infant tried to grab it with a sticky hand. "They seemed nice," the mother said, "especially the man with the brown eyes. I couldn't get my baby to stop crying, and he took her and walked her up and down the passageway until she went to sleep." The woman shivered visibly, clutching the infant to her chest. "I had no idea what kind of risk I was taking with my baby's life."

Dee groaned. "Those two don't realize what kind of danger they're in, Kathryn. They'll be charged with capital crimes, tried for invading Okingala space. The crowd would like to lynch them right now."

"Years ago, Voyager avoided the Empire because of their xenophobia and incredibly complex bureaucracy," Kathryn said, deep in thought. "I imagine Chakotay remembers that and took it into account before he arrived."

"Do you think he knows we're here?"

"I have no idea. Maybe. They might have been able to trace us, if they knew we survived."

The news bulletin ended, and Dee replayed it, slowing the feed when the humans' faces appeared. "Look at the curious expressions on their faces," she said. "They aren't scared at all. You'd think they were here for shore leave or something."

Dee was right. Both men looked as though they were studying their surroundings intently and without fear, in spite of their bloodied noses and split lips, in spite of the surging, surly crowd surrounding them. Kathryn had seen that look on Chakotay's face many times before, on Voyager's bridge and since then, as well, when he studied a new culture and carefully assessed it. He had a calculating look, an expectant one. He wasn't afraid, but was observing, taking mental notes, deciding what to do next.

Suddenly she understood. "First contact."

Dee leaned forward. "First contact?"

"He's dealing with this as if it's a first contact situation." Kathryn smiled, suddenly relieved. "And, of course, for him, that's exactly what it is."

"You're forgetting about Dauntless, Kathryn."

"But they weren't on Dauntless." She stood up and began to pace, her mind carefully sifting through Starfleet protocols. "What's the primary rule of first contact?"

As a good Starfleet officer, Dee had been drilled on these details until she'd memorized them. "Always attempt to enter first contact territories legally."

"Exactly. And that was part of our problem. Dauntless didn't do that, and in a culture whose distant past includes surprise attacks from subspace corridors by the Vaduaar, it's a cardinal sin." She stopped and put her hands on her hips. "But Tom and Chakotay came in on a civilian transport from the Crossroads. With valid papers and a clear entry trail across the frontier."

Dee nodded, thinking through the problem. "So why haven't they said so? Why are they letting themselves be arrested and thrown in jail like this?"

Before Kathryn could answer, they heard loud thumping on the door and the voice of their landlord yelling to them. "Open up! There's a man from the transport depot who wants to talk to you!"

"Oh, no!" Dee exclaimed, her hand to her mouth. "They've found us."

The police vehicle was cool and quiet following the chaos of the nearly riotous crowd at the transport station. Chakotay sat back on the bench and brought his shackled hands up to gently wipe the blood from his swollen lip. "Well, that could've gone worse."

"Speak for yourself." Tom gently tilted his head and sniffed. "I think my nose is broken."

Chakotay shuffled over to sit beside him on the other side of the paddy wagon. "Let me see."

Tom winced as Chakotay studied his face and gently poked his swollen nose with bunched fingers. "Do you think they'll let me see a medic? I'd hate to lose my good looks."

Chakotay laughed. "It's not broken, pretty boy, so you can relax."

They sat back side by side, the vehicle gently rocking them as they were taken across the city to the alien holding facility. They were sitting close enough to talk quietly, under their breaths, their words muffled by the road noise and the steady hum of the engine.

"So you really think they're on Renden?" Tom asked.

"I talked to B'Elanna just before I ditched the commbadge. She said they picked up the emergency beacon's signal again yesterday for nearly thirty minutes, no more than a kilometer from the transport station where we were arrested." He closed his eyes and sighed. Could he have been that close to Kathryn? "They're on Renden all right."

"I hate to say this, but Neelix bought a lot of scrap from the shuttle. Isn't it possible that someone purchased the beacon on the black market and is just figuring out how to use it?"

Chakotay shrugged, but was unwilling to be disillusioned. "It's possible, I guess, but I doubt it. I think it came from Kathryn and Fran Delia."

"We know they took nothing with them from the shuttle. Where would an emergency beacon come from?"

"Maybe it was a hobby, something to fill the time. You don't really think that Kathryn Janeway plans to spend the rest of her life in the Okingala Empire, do you?" He glanced at Tom, and then spent a few moments trying to get his manacled hands into a comfortable position before finally giving up. "After all, what did B'Elanna do on our trip out here? She built a copy of the cloaking device Admiral Janeway brought from the future."

"Yeah. And that's come in pretty handy."

"Kathryn's probably trying to figure out how to get home, and a beacon is something that might just come in handy, too."

"Maybe it already has?"

"I hope so."

Tom tried to relax. "How long before they figure out we aren't the ones they're looking for?"

"Long enough, I hope. It'll take a day or two for them to trace us back through the Sanshaa sector. Plenty of time for Neelix to do his thing."

"I'd hoped I'd never be back in prison again."

Chakotay grinned. "What's that old Terran saying? 'Hope springs eternal'? Maybe this is your last time."

The vehicle came to a stop. The driver talked to someone outside before they heard a series of buzzers, and then the vehicle began moving slowly forward.

"I sure hope we didn't miss dinner," Tom joked as the prison gates slammed shut behind them.

A few moments later, the back doors flew open and a glaring light was shown into their faces, making it impossible to see. They held their manacled hands in front of their faces as four huge men climbed into the vehicle and grabbed them roughly by the arms, dragging them down the ramp into the darkness.

Four disruptors were aimed at their heads. "Do something so I can kill you," one of the guards sneered.

"Come here and I'll give you a kiss," Tom sneered. Chakotay braced himself and closed his eyes as two guards rushed them, hitting them with the butts of their rifles, sending them into oblivion.

Kathryn and Dee stood perfectly still, staring at each other with the vidscreen noise in the background. There was only one way out of the apartment-through the doorway-and the landlord must know that they were at home.

"Sounds like the vid's on," they heard the landlord say to someone standing with him outside the door. "Maybe they're in the back room." He beat on the door again. "Hey, open up."

"Perhaps I can help," another man chimed in, raising his voice. "I'm looking for passengers who can also serve as maintenance workers on my way through the Empire. I heard you were thinking of leaving and that you needed a job."

Kathryn grabbed Dee's arm. "Neelix!" she whispered as she moved toward the door. "It sounds like Neelix."

The two women walked together to the door and opened it, only to find the landlord and Neelix standing in the hallway. "Sorry to disturb you ladies," the landlord said, "but I knew you were vacating the apartment tomorrow and were looking for a job on a transport vessel. Hope you don't mind that I let this guy know about that."

Dee found her tongue first as Kathryn simply stared in amazement at the Talaxian. "Thanks, Geondi. We appreciate all you've done."

"Won't you come in?" Kathryn offered.

The landlord disappeared down the hall as Neelix stepped into the tiny apartment, closing the door behind him. "I've finally found you," he exclaimed, throwing his arms around the admiral. "I've been looking for you for months!"

"Neelix." Kathryn hugged him back, ignoring the tears that spilled down her face as she pulled away to introduce her roommate. "Come in, come in. This is Fran Delia."

"A pleasure," Neelix shook her hand, even though his eyes kept straying to Kathryn's face. "You make a good Bajoran, Admiral."

"It's Kathryn," she said, nervously fingering her nose ridges. She led him to the living area where the news video on Tom and Chakotay's arrest continued. "We were watching the news broadcast. Do you know about the arrest?"

"I was there." Neelix settled on the sofa next to Kathryn.

"You let this happen?"

"Well, not exactly. We planned to find you without having to mess with the government. But this is the Okingala Empire, you know. A real bureaucracy, so Chakotay was prepared for anything. He thought they might be apprehended." He glanced around the room. "This is a tiny apartment for two people, Kathryn."

She looked around and shrugged. "I think of it as cozy. We were trying to save most of our money for transportation out of here."

"Geondi said you were saving up to return to Bajor?" His face was incredulous. "Not really?"

"They don't know Bajor is in the Alpha Quadrant, just far away," Kathryn laughed. "We were actually trying to get to your colony."

"I thought as much. I'm licensed to transport people and supplies through the Empire, and I could use your 'help.' Because I'm an independent contractor, I can bypass most of the red tape, including DNA testing."

"What about Tom and Chakotay?" Dee asked. "We can't leave them behind."

"We won't, but, for now, we're going to leave them where they are."

"They looked like they'd been beaten up," Kathryn tried and failed to keep the worry out of her voice. "You said you were there. What happened?"

"It's unfortunate that they found Lt. Munro's body when they did. When Tom and Chakotay were subjected to the DNA scan during in-processing, they were, of course, identified as human. The officials and other people in the area assumed they were the other two who'd been on Dauntless. Some of the people expected them to resist arrest and got a little too enthusiastic at subduing them. They weren't attacked as much as they were just pushed around. I don't think either of them was seriously injured."

"How can we just go off and leave them like that?" Every instinct in Kathryn's body told her to stay.

"Chakotay said that if they were arrested I was to tell you not to worry. I'm supposed to take you with me and leave everything up to the team."

"The team," Kathryn echoed. "Just who else is involved?"

"B'Elanna and Mike Ayala."

Kathryn couldn't disguise her amazement. "You mean that Starfleet let those four bring the Arturis out here alone? I don't believe it."

"Well, I don't actually think they had Starfleet's permission."

"They stole the ship." Kathryn said it with finality, her eyes wide with surprise. "They stole Arturis."

"Chakotay said they 'borrowed' it. But not until after Starfleet refused to send the ship to look for you." Neelix put his arm around Kathryn to comfort her. "What was it you once told Naomi? A Starfleet captain keeps his/her shirt tucked in, always goes down with the ship, and . . . ."

"Never leaves anyone behind."

"That's right. Chakotay said that he wasn't about to leave anyone stranded out here. So, he 'borrowed' the ship." Neelix stood up and clapped his hands together. "Looks like you're already packed. What do you say we beam onto my ship? I have a delicious leola root casserole I'm anxious for you to taste."

"Leola root?" Dee turned to Kathryn. "Isn't that the stuff you told me about?"

"You told her about leola root?" Neelix seemed pleased. "I hope it lives up to your expectations."

"I hope it doesn't," Dee mumbled, rolling her eyes as Kathryn struggled to keep from laughing out loud.

Neelix's ship meandered toward the Empire's border, occasionally stopping at likely trading spots, but doing nothing that would bring undue attention to itself. To Kathryn Janeway, the ten days seemed like the longest in her life--they were traveling farther away from Chakotay and Tom and the drama unfolding around them in the capital city. She took her turns on the bridge and pulled duty in engineering, but then she retreated to the tiny quarters she shared with Dee to watch the newsvids from Renden.

First Contact follows an expected pattern, and this one was fairly predictable. Tom and Chakotay were discovered to be legal aliens just two days after their arrest, guilty only of sharing DNA with a man who'd been on Dauntless, hardly a capital offense. Still considered dangerous, they were moved to minimal security facility where they could be interviewed by government agents anxious to determine whether they were accomplices in a foiled invasion of Okingala space or whether they were simply travelers who happened to be of the same species.

Kathryn had been on bridge duty for hours when Dee burst onto the bridge. "You have to go below and watch the broadcast! They're going to interview Chakotay! I'll finish your tour. Go!"

Kathryn hurried to their quarters where the journalist was in the midst of his interview. She sat down on her bunk, her eyes fixed on her husband's face, anxious to hear his voice again after all these months. He looked healthy enough. The injuries from the time of his arrest were well healed, and she hoped he hadn't received any more during his time in prison.

"Perhaps you can tell us, Professor Chakotay, why we shouldn't fear this ship-- Dauntless, did you call it?--that invaded Rencasi space?"

Chakotay's voice washed over her, and she brushed tears from her eyes as she listened to him calmly discuss this terrible situation. "Think about the location in Rencasi territory where Dauntless emerged from subspace. Could there be a less strategic location in the Empire? If this had been an invasion, why not begin here at Renden, in the heart of the Empire? Why not close to a military hub? Or near an economic center? Why only one ship instead of an armada? Obviously, Dauntless was not here to challenge the Empire or to cause any problems whatsoever. It was on a peaceful mission of exploration."

The interviewer nodded, accepting the logic of the argument. "So, what happened, do you think?"

"I think that an enemy from our quadrant of space sabotaged or attacked the ship when it was most vulnerable, before it could contact the local authorities and make peaceful first contact. What happened there was not war, but tragedy, the loss of a ship full of scientists attempting to test a form of propulsion that could bring our peoples into close, productive association."

Perfect. Kathryn watched him in admiration as he continued the interview, wishing she could be there beside him. He'd done this so many times during their exile in the Delta Quadrant, yet she'd seldom been able to observe him work in person, even though she'd suspected that he was a master.

"Okingala officials believe that two individuals, humans like you, survived the initial explosion. Do you think, Professor, that there were other survivors? And if so, should we fear them?"

A momentary look of sadness crossed Chakotay's face. "I hope someone survived. If they did, I'm sure they're simply trying to find a way home. They must know that your people are searching for them, wanting to arrest them for something that you have misinterpreted as an aggressive act. I sincerely hope that if and when they're found, they'll be treated with kindness and consideration, not prosecution. They've been through enough."

Hours later, when Dee's shift ended, she found Kathryn fast asleep on the bunk, the news article repeating automatically on the vidscreen. Dee thought it was sweet that she'd fallen asleep to the sound of her husband's voice. She seemed so small and vulnerable when asleep, yet such a powerhouse when awake. It was this contradiction that had fascinated Fran Delia from the very first time she'd met Admiral Janeway. On duty, she was "impervious to warp core breeches," as B'Elanna Torres joked, yet off duty she was gracious and warm, with a wonderful sense of humor.

When Kathryn had arrived on earth to take over command of the Slipstream project, rumors were swirling about her exile on Dorvan IV with her former first officer. Some of Voyager's former crew speculated that the two had finally followed through on the obvious attraction that had started in the Delta Quadrant, but others scoffed at the idea. Kathryn seemed oblivious to the rumors and immersed herself in her work. She'd been a typical admiral-hard working, tireless, proactive, and stubborn-yet Dee had seen sadness in her eyes and distance in her manner that had made her wonder what could be wrong.

In the early months after the admiral's arrival, Dee had served as her aide-de-camp until Ensign Connor came on board. She'd taken care of lots of administrative details, smoothing the admiral's workday and generally being someone who could counted on to take care of last minute needs and requests. Kathryn had been less demanding than most admirals, but Dee still made sure to get to work early enough to have a fresh pot of coffee brewed. When Kathryn walked into her office, Dee was usually following her with a steaming mug ready for her immediate consumption.

Kathryn would habitually check her mail as Dee rattled off the day's schedule changes, planned trips, unexpected meetings, important messages, and all the other demands on her time. More often than not, the admiral looked up from her view screen, sighed, and plunged into the work. But some mornings, her face would light up and she'd shoo Dee out of the office while she "caught up on some personal correspondence."

Those were the best days, when Kathryn would seem less haunted, when her wicked sense of humor emerged and the team found themselves humming at their desks. Dee had been desperate to find out what made the admiral so happy and their work so pleasant, but Kathryn's private life was strictly private, and she wouldn't tolerate intrusive personal questions.

Now, Dee realized that the admiral must have found a message from Chakotay waiting for her on those happy mornings. As she looked back over her years on the team, she realized what a positive impact he'd had on the admiral's mood and attitude, how he'd quietly helped her deal with the pressures and stresses of her incredibly challenging job. Was it possible that this woman, who seemed both indestructible and unflappable, actually needed someone to support her? The word "vulnerable" just didn't seem to fit Dee's image of her boss.

Only in Chakotay's presence did she exhibit vulnerability. Dee remembered the first time she'd seen it, a few weeks after the Kathryn had brought him to the family picnic in Marin County. The team had been through a disastrous morning, and Kathryn was angry, annoyed, and exasperated. The staff was tip-toeing around the outer office, hoping to avoid any further confrontations before the end of the day, only to look up and find Chakotay walking cheerfully toward them, his dimples in clear view.

"Not the best day, sir," Ensign Connor warned him, peering into the inner office where Kathryn stood staring out the window behind her desk. "The last three people who walked in there left with their heads in their hands."

Chakotay gave him a grin. "Don't worry, Ensign. I won't hold you responsible for anything that happens." With that he strode into the office, brushing past Dee, who was making a fast exit. He held a finger to his lips for silence, obviously wanting to surprise the admiral, and Dee paused at the door to watch the fireworks.

Kathryn's posture advertised the tension she felt. Her arms were crossed in front of her and her shoulders were slightly hunched. She'd just been chewed out by Admiral Travers over some minor administrative oversight and had resisted the urge to vent her resentment on her overworked staff for his nitpicking attitude. She was just about to turn around when she noticed Chakotay's reflection in the window as he walked up behind her. He slipped his arms around her waist and pulled her into an embrace.

"Chakotay," she sighed, relaxing into him, her eyes closing. "What a nice surprise."

"Your staff seemed to think you'd take my head off."

She turned in his arms to look up at him with a crooked grin. "I've been on the warpath, I'm afraid."

"Travers again."

"Travers again." She looked exposed and vulnerable, a complete change from the woman who'd practically had smoke coming out her ears just moments before. Dee's mouth fell open with surprise. "Chakotay, I think he must be a Kazon in disguise."

Dee knew she should leave and pull the door shut behind her, but she was fascinated by the change in the admiral's voice and manner, by the easy intimacy of the relationship. Chakotay had walked up to the admiral and pulled her into an embrace without a second's hesitation. It was incredible to think that Kathryn's last words to Dee had been stern and forceful, directing her to find out exactly what needed to be done to correct the administrative error and fix it without a moment's delay. Yet less than a minute later, she was anxiously searching Chakotay's face for a few words of encouragement.

"Lieutenant Fran."

Dee focused her eyes on the admiral and felt her face grow warm as she realized that she'd been staring. Kathryn watched her with a tiny smile of amusement while Chakotay fussed with the replicator. "Yes, ma'am?"

"Have the ensign hold my calls. I'm going to eat some lunch and relax."

She couldn't believe her ears. "Lunch, Admiral?"

"The meal between breakfast and dinner," Chakotay quipped from the back of the office, giving Dee a wink. "The one the admiral always seems to overlook."

Kathryn tried to look angry, but broke into a grin. "Reschedule my 1230 meeting with Commander Reilly to 1300."

"Make that 1330." Chakotay shrugged. "It's already 1220, Kathryn. You need time to relax and let the food settle."

Kathryn, much to Dee's surprise, acquiesced without hesitation. "Okay, make it 1330." She turned to Chakotay, "But don't be surprised if I'm late getting home tonight."

He laughed. "I'm only surprised when you get home early."

Dee backed out of the room, anxious to give the couple their privacy and stunned by the electricity that seemed to spark between them. The afternoon following the lunch had been pleasant, relaxed, and a complete reversal from the tense morning. "Maybe Chakotay should feed her lunch every day," Connor commented as he prepared to leave later that evening.

In time, the staff came to depend on Chakotay's ability to sooth away the admiral's bad moods. When his presence was called for, when the admiral's stress levels were too high, and she needed to depressurize before she began flogging people, in Chakotay's words, one of them would invite him to stop by for lunch. Almost without fail, Kathryn's mood would brighten and the storm clouds would disperse. They thought they'd fooled her until one terrible day when Chakotay was out of town. "Too bad you can't bring in the cavalry," she sighed as she leaned back in her chair and ran her hands through her hair. "He's on Vulcan right now."

Dee smiled, bringing herself back to the present. The last months in the Delta Quadrant had given her new insight into Kathryn's personality. She'd been strong, supportive, positive, and kind in her dealings with Dee, sympathetic with the Bajoran's homesickness and willing to let Dee see glimpses of her own loneliness and despair. She'd also never wavered in her determination to find a way home and never let either of them descend into depression by keeping them focused on a solution to the problem. But at night, when she thought Dee was asleep, her vulnerability had shown through. Kathryn often cried herself to sleep, and in quiet moments when she thought she was alone, Dee could see the pain and sadness in her eyes.

"The shift over?" Kathryn asked as she sat up on the cot, rubbing her eyes and yawning. "I meant to come relieve you, but I must've fallen asleep."

"Neelix sent me to tell you that an Okingala patrol has contacted him. They want to inspect his crew and cargo, and they'll be here in fifteen minutes."

Kathryn's hand went to the Bajoran ridge on her nose. "DNA testing, too?"

"We hope not. But, we aren't sure."

"I recommend against taking public transportation on your way out of the Empire." Morlach, the legal assigned to Tom and Chakotay's case gave them a sympathetic look. "Even though it will cost you more than double the usual fare. I've been contacted by a few private contractors who'd be willing to take you." He handed them a printout.

"I see what you mean," Chakotay said, shaking his head over the information before handing it to Tom. "At these rates, we could have starlight suites on the public transports."

"But I can't vouch for your safety on those." Morlach sighed. "I've received threats on my life simply because I agreed to represent you in the courts. No telling what might happen to you if the general public had access to you."

"But," Tom protested, "the government has accepted that we weren't involved in the explosion in the Rencasi sector. They've told us we can leave the empire without any further fear of prosecution."

"I know that, but this fear is based on something much deeper, more emotional," Morlach warned. "Your ship appeared in the midst of our space just as the legendary Vaduaar ships did centuries ago. For all we know, you could be descendants of the Vaduaar."

Tom and Chakotay glanced at each other. They knew, of course, exactly what the Vaduaar looked like. Seven of Nine had inadvertently loosed the species on the quadrant by reactivating them after an eight century "hibernation." However, they knew better than to share that knowledge, even if the threat of another Vaduaar invasion might be more real than the Okingala realized.

"Is this the cheapest fare you received?" Chakotay asked, changing the subject.

"No. There was a cheaper one, but I didn't include it in the list. The contractor is suspected of dealing with the black market and transporting contraband."

"How much cheaper was he?" Tom wondered.

Morlach accessed his records, pulling up the information. "He's a Talaxian named Neelix and his ship is tiny. You'd have to share quarters, I'm afraid."

Chakotay took the information. "We can do that, especially for this price."

"He might expect you to help out on the ship, too."

"Can we talk to this 'Neelix'?" Chakotay asked. "Maybe we can work out a deal."

Morach shrugged, "It's your choice. But I don't recommend him."

Tom said, "We'll take a chance."

"His local representative is a female named Dexa. Shall I have her contact you?"

"Please do."

They spent the next few minutes thanking Morlach for his help and wishing him luck in dealing with the angry public.

"The public has a short memory," he assured them as he took his leave. "I'll be fine once the next crisis arrives."

Alone at last, Tom turned to Chakotay, aware, as always, that their conversation was probably being monitored. "What do you think about this Talaxian?"

"I think he'll be okay," Chakotay replied, giving his friend a wink. "We'll just have to watch our backs."

"Bribery is a wonderful thing," Neelix exclaimed as he walked into the tiny galley of his ship. "Especially when spending Starfleet's replicated credits."

Kathryn, who had been hiding in a storage cabinet, stretched her aching muscles. "They're gone?"

"They're gone."

She sighed with relief. "There were no complications?"

"Not after they found the contraband and put me on probation. They'd met their daily stop requirements and had issued their expected number of citations. A few extra credits in their palms convinced them that they didn't really need to check the crew."

"Contraband?"

"Seems that one of the containers we picked up at our last stop did not contain the rahktahr beans after all."

"Drugs?"

"A tiny quantity of a popular hallucinogenic, I think." He winked at her. "I don't think all of it will make it into their holding tank, if you know what I mean."

"Just so they won't bother us again."

"They won't. The nebula where Arturis is hiding is just a few light years away."

"But how can Dee and I just leave this ship? The Okingala will notice that you lost a couple of passengers, won't they?"

"Well, that's the other thing." Neelix admitted, a huge grin on his face. "The inspectors never verified the paperwork. As far as the Okingala are concerned, I have no crew on board."

"And all this for one bribe?"

"I'm good, aren't I?" Neelix crowed with delight as Kathryn simply shook her head.

"I'm just glad you're on our side, Neelix."

"I don't like it." Kathryn Janeway stood behind the desk in Arturis' ready room, glaring at B'Elanna Torres and Neelix. "I think Arturis should be there, too. Neelix's little ship is too vulnerable. It doesn't even have photon torpedoes."

"I agree, but our cloaking device reacts poorly in heavily traveled shipping lanes," B'Elanna explained. "The problem is caused by an interaction with the field generated by the benamite crystals, but so far I haven't been able to figure out why. We need to keep our distance from Renden or we'll be detected."

Kathryn sighed. How would the Okingala react if they discovered a third Starfleet ship, a cloaked one at that, lurking deep in their territory? It wouldn't be good. Chakotay's credibility would be ruined and all his work for a proper first contact lost. "How close can we get?"

B'Elanna pulled up a star chart and spent the next several minutes describing their planned course to shadow Neelix on his trip to and from Renden. "We won't really be that far away, Kathryn. If he needs us, we can be there soon enough to help."

"That'll have to do, I guess." She turned to Neelix. "Dexa has contacted Tom and Chakotay?"

Neelix nodded. "Yes. They've been released by the Empire and have booked transport on my ship out of Okingala space. They're waiting for me to arrive and take them back toward the Crossroads."

"Very well. We might as well get started. The sooner we get to Renden, the sooner this whole mess will be over."

"I'll beam back to my ship at once." Neelix started for the door.

"Thanks again for all you've done, Neelix," Kathryn said. "You've been a good friend to us for too many years."

"The feeling is mutual, Admiral." The Talaxian glowed with happiness as he disappeared through the door.

"Sometimes his positive attitude rubs me the wrong way," B'Elanna sighed. "If he wasn't so damned sincere, I could just box his ears."

Kathryn laughed. "Janeway to Ayala."

"Ayala here."

"We're getting underway. Follow Neelix's ship on the predetermined course, keeping an adequate cushion of space between us."

"Yes, Admiral."

"Are you worried about Tom's safety?" Kathryn swiveled her chair to access the replicator slot behind her desk. She was diligently trying to catch up on several months without coffee.

"Not at all. Everything has gone just about as Chakotay predicted."

Kathryn raised an eyebrow as she sipped the hot brew. "He thought they'd be arrested?"

"He knew it was a possibility, of course. You know how exhaustive he is when planning these missions. He spent six weeks fretting over this on our way out here, and this was Plan B from the beginning. He'd hoped that their getting captured would take the heat off of you two and let Neelix get you out of there more easily."

"Which is exactly what happened." Kathryn nodded and leaned back in her chair. How many hours had she spent with her former first officer in Voyager's ready room nailing down every possible outcome of a proposed mission? The amount of time they'd spent on such details was mind boggling, yet essential to their survival. They'd been the perfect combination-her scientific, by-the-book approach had been nicely complemented by his willingness to think outside the box, to be innovative and even illicit. His years as a guerilla fighter had made him the perfect devil's advocate to her more customary strategies. They'd made it through those seven years together, and she'd never denied how much she'd needed him.

"You are worried about them aren't you?" B'Elanna smiled. "They've been in worse situations."

"I know that, but I was always in a position to help them if they needed it." They were silent. Through the ready room's tiny window, Kathryn could see that they were underway, although the stars, usually brilliant as they streamed by, were dimmed by the effect of the cloak. Their conversation, B'Elanna realized, was taking an interesting turn; the admiral was gradually disappearing and being replaced Kathryn. She'd seen the transformation before and was always fascinated by it. "I can't believe Chakotay didn't leave me a message," she said looking forlorn and embarrassed.

"I asked him about that. He said that what he has to say must be said in person and that you'd understand."

Kathryn looked away, shocked by the tears that suddenly filled her eyes. "I just miss him so much, B'Elanna. I didn't know if I'd ever see him again."

"He thought you were dead. We all did for awhile. Do you realize that your mother and sister have sat through two memorial services for you?"

"I can't imagine it, really. I'm sorry that it was a real funeral for sixty-three innocent people."

"I know you are, but that wasn't your fault." B'Elanna watched as the older woman closed her eyes in grief. "I was wondering if you could tell who was on the Cardassian shuttle?"

"We could barely find the shuttle, much less determine who was inside it. The Romulan cloaking device must have been their latest model."

"I was afraid of that. I think it might have been built to interact perfectly with the slipstream field. It was a miracle that you discovered it at all."

"I'd love to get the bastards who designed it. Has Starfleet had any luck at all in determining just who was responsible?"

"The last time we heard what was going on in the Federation, the Cardassians were claiming that the Romulans stole the ship, and the Romulans were claiming the Cardassians stole the cloak."

Kathryn sighed in frustration. "We'll just have to assume they were working together and get our revenge on both."

"I think that was exactly what was about to happen."

"And I don't get the satisfaction of helping with that either." Kathryn stood up, suddenly exhausted. "If you and Mike can handle things here, I'm going below for a nap. Dee and I will replace you next shift."

"Sleep well."

Arturis was small, having only four tiny cabins for its long-term crew, so Kathryn went to the one that had belonged to Chakotay on the long trip to the Delta Quadrant. Tom and B'Elanna shared a second one, while Dee and Mike had quarters to themselves. Letting herself into the quiet darkness, she stood for several moments, imagining that she could feel her husband's presence in the room. His medicine bundle was on the shelf of the bedside table and a picture of the two of them lounging on the porch of her mother's house sat beside his computer screen.

A thought struck her, and she moved quickly to the desk and activated the viewscreen. "He said that I'd understand that what he needed to say had to be said in person," she murmured as she pulled up the message program, entering a few personal codes they routinely used. "What he really meant was that I needed to hear it privately."

Sure enough, in a matter of moments, his face appeared on the screen with his characteristic grin. She paused it before he began speaking, taking those moments to simply look at his face as he began the message; she knew that he was imagining that he was looking at her, and she could see the tenderness and affection in his brown eyes. Tears blurred her vision as she touched the screen, her hand trembling. Now that he was so near, she missed him even more than before.

"If you're hearing this, Kathryn," came his voice, "then you've figured out what I meant--that I wanted you to hear this while you were alone. That you're hearing this at all means that, for whatever reason, Neelix found you before I did and we're still not together. Believe me when I say that wherever I am, I'll come to you as soon as possible." He paused, visibly struggling to maintain control of his emotions. "I thought you were dead, Kathryn. I thought I'd never see you again. In light of the fact that you've miraculously survived, I can wait a few days longer.

"Obviously, I stole Arturis. I tried to get Starfleet to send a rescue mission, but you know how conservative Admiral Travers can be. When he refused, I felt I had no other choice. I know I could've gone to Admiral Paris or even Richard for help, but I felt a sense of urgency about getting out here and I didn't want to wait to play the usual Starfleet games. I hope you can forgive me."

She paused the message again, a sense of panic surging through her. What would've happened if he'd waited, if he'd played those Starfleet games? Even a week's delay could've been disastrous. The Okingala had discovered Jeff Munro's body just a day before Chakotay and Tom arrived at Renden looking for them. If they hadn't been arrested, the officials would've begun screening all other aliens, including Dee and herself. It would've been a matter of time before they'd been discovered and charged with serious crimes.

Plus, Starfleet would never have allowed Chakotay and the other members of Voyager's crew to come on the mission, even though they had much more experience in dealing with Delta Quadrant cultures and first contact situations. She couldn't have picked a better team herself-Chakotay as the mission commander, Tom as the pilot, B'Elanna as the engineer, Mike Ayala as tactical officer-the crew was perfect for this kind of work. With a sigh, she reactivated the message.

"Be patient, Kathryn. I know what I'm doing, and I'll be with you soon. We can spend the six-week return trip getting to know each other again," he promised, his eyes sparkling with mischief. The transmission ended, leaving her painfully aware of her solitude. She walked over to Chakotay's bed and pulled off her boots, cuddling into the pillows as if they were her husband's warm, solid body.

"I don't need to get to know you again, darling," she whispered, stifling a sob. "I remember you. How could I ever forget you?"

"Has the ship moved at all in the last hour?" Kathryn Janeway sat on Arturis' bridge, her eyes fixed on a tiny spot on the viewscreen-Neelix's ship, from the vantage point of a million kilometers or so. She shifted in her seat and sighed. "No, Mike, don't answer that. I know they're going as fast as they can."

Mike Ayala, who was taking a tour at the helm simply glanced back at her and grinned. He desperately wanted to tease her about needing a man, but knew she could still take his head off his shoulders with just a look. Kathryn, who saw his smirk, smiled back.

"I know what you're thinking, Mike, and I advise you to keep your mind on your job."

"Yes, Admiral," he answered, turning back to his duties.

After transferring Dee and Kathryn permanently to the Arturis, Neelix had returned and picked up Dexa, Tom, and Chakotay and headed in a leisurely fashion toward the distant Talaxian colony. Arturis had followed at a safe distance, ready to come to their assistance, if needed, but remaining out of any traffic lanes that might compromise their cloak. Too far away and too slowly, as far as Kathryn was concerned. At least their leisurely pace had given her the chance to restore her nose to its original human shape before Chakotay saw her as a Bajoran.

"Admiral," Mike said, suddenly sitting up straight. "They've changed course and increased their speed."

"Give me a tactical display." The view screen shifted from real time to a computer generated, three-dimensional star field. Neelix's ship, a tiny blue dot amidst dozens of white stars, was being approached by a handful of equally small red dots. "Pirates?"

"I think so." He used a cursor to point at the two red dots closest to Neelix's ship. "These two are probably the armed vessels, and the two following them in are the mules-the ones that carry the loot."

"Janeway to Torres. Report to the bridge." Kathryn swore under her breath. "Where did they come from?"

"This asteroid belt." Mike moved the cursor. "The metals in the asteroids naturally disperse our scans. No telling how many more ships they have in there."

B'Elanna arrived on the bridge, followed closely by Fran Delia, who'd been with her in the galley having breakfast. "What's happened?"

Kathryn quickly filled them in on the unfolding pirate attack. All four of them studied the screens, deep in thought. "The Okingala border patrols are too far away to be of any help," B'Elanna pointed out. "By the time they get here, there'll be nothing left but scrap metal."

Ayala nodded. "And the pirate ships are just as fast as Neelix's is, and probably have more firepower. He can't outrun or outgun them."

"We could drop our cloak and rescue them," Dee suggested. "Arturis could easily disable the two main ships and take Neelix's ship in tow."

"I'd love to do just that," Kathryn said, "but not yet." She stood up and put her hands on her hips in typical Janeway fashion. "B'Elanna, can we maintain the cloak while at high warp?"

"I guess so. I'd have to make a few modifications to the power supply, and I can't say how long the cloak would hold up."

"Do it." B'Elanna headed for engineering. "Mike, how long will it take us to cross the Okingala border at warp nine?"

He turned to the helm and did some quick calculations. "Just under three minutes."

"Lay in a course," she ordered as she turned to Dee. "Send a one word message to Neelix. 'Surrender.'"

"Admiral, are you sure?"

"Just do it, Dee." She sat down in the command seat, trying not to fidget as she imagined how her plan would unfold. "B'Elanna, have you made the necessary modifications to the power system?"

"Yes, ma'am. You can engage at warp nine and keep the cloak, but only for about five minutes before you burn out the emitters."

"Long enough. Mike, engage at warp nine."

"Yes, ma'am."

For two minutes, the bridge was silent. Then, Dee reported, "Neelix is trying to head for the border, too, but the pirates are gaining on him. He's under fire."

Kathryn narrowed her eyes. "Mike, once we leave the Empire, find a suitable location for us to hide while we drop the cloak, and then return at warp nine to Neelix's coordinates."

"Aye, Admiral."

"I get it," Dee said, shaking her head. "We'll be the ship that was 'waiting' outside of Okingala space to pick up Tom and Chakotay. We're only crossing the border to come to their rescue."

Kathryn grinned. "Exactly. I just hope Neelix can fight the pirates off until we arrive."

"Okay, Admiral," Mike reported. "We're hidden behind a nebula. I'm dropping the cloak."

"Set a course back to Neelix's ship and engage at warp nine. How long, Mike?"

"He's closer to the border than we were. Less than two minutes."

"Red alert." Kathryn stood up, her heart pounding as she raced to the tactical station. "Battle stations. When we drop out of warp, Mike, use evasive maneuvers delta five. I'll do the shooting."

"Yes, ma'am."

The battle didn't last long. Arturis dropped out of warp and neatly rendered the pirates' weapons systems useless with a few well-aimed phaser beams. The pirates and their two cargo ships withdrew without landing a shot and headed for the safety of the nearby asteroid belt.

Kathryn glanced at Dee. "Open a hailing frequency, Dee."

Neelix peered at them from a shattered, smoking bridge. "I thought you were behind us!"

"We were. But it seemed more prudent to come from outside the Empire." Kathryn studied the scan of the tiny ship. "Looks like you're in bad shape. We'll take you in tow and head for the border."

"Admiral," Mike Ayala interrupted. "The Okingala security forces are heading toward us from their base at high warp, trying to hail us for all they're worth."

"Too bad our comm system is malfunctioning." Kathryn moved back to the command seat. "Engage tractor beam and get us out of Okingala space at best possible speed." She leaned forward, her elbows on her knees, "and please tell me, Mr. Ayala, that we'll be out of their space before the Okingala arrive."

"It will be close, Admiral."

"The sooner the better, then. Let's get underway." As the interior shot of Neelix's bridge faded from the view screen, Kathryn was almost certain that she saw her husband lurking in the shadows, a big grin on his face.

Chakotay looked so disappointed to see her when he finally beamed onto Arturis that B'Elanna laughed out loud. "Expecting someone else, were we?" she teased.

"I haven't seen my wife in nearly a year," he replied, looking so dejected that she regretted her outburst. "Can you blame me if I'm anxious to see her?"

"Kathryn's still wrangling with the Okingala captain about our unauthorized trespass on their territory. She said she'd join you in your quarters as soon as she was finished and we were underway again."

"Is there going to be a problem?"

"I don't think so. He just has to cover his tracks so the bureaucracy doesn't chew him up, I think." She walked over to her friend and took his arm, sympathetic. "I can't imagine how you must feel. I miss Tom and he's only been gone a couple of weeks. She'll be along before you know it. She misses you, too, for some reason."

When he walked into his quarters, he could tell immediately that Kathryn had moved in. He could smell the faint aroma of her perfume and the weak scent of brewed coffee in the air. Plus, he saw her usual clutter, a hair brush on the desk, her slippers beside the sofa, her damp robe discarded on the perfectly made bed, a half dozen PADDs on the coffee table. He picked up the robe and buried his face in it, overwhelmed by the familiar scent of her soap and shampoo. He felt weak with desire for her.

The last few days had been nearly intolerable. Stuck sharing quarters with Tom Paris on Neelix's tiny ship, he'd found himself studying the sensors, even staring out the view ports, trying to locate the cloaked Starfleet vessel that was shadowing them. She was out there, almost within transporter range, and he longed to see her, to hold her in his arms, to talk to her, to make love to her. Now, she was one deck above him, on Arturis' bridge, and he had to resist the urge to simply burst into her ready room and drag her back to the privacy of their quarters.

In the ready room, Kathryn, too, was growing impatient. She stared at the image of the Okingala captain, her face flushed with anger. "I have no intention of returning to Okingala space for a hearing on my 'illegal incursion' into your territory. The reason I crossed the border is obvious- the ship I was waiting to meet was under attack by pirates. If I hadn't come to their rescue, no telling what would've happened to them." No thanks to you, she thought, biting her tongue.

But the equally angry bureaucrat on her view screen was not to be denied. "Drop your shields and prepare to be boarded."

"Not today." She mumbled as she terminated the communication and burst onto the bridge. "Is everything ready, Mr. Ayala?"

"Aye, Admiral. B'Elanna says we can go to warp whenever you're ready."

"Do it." With a single tap on his panel, Ayala sent the ship into warp with a lurch, its normally smooth operation impeded by the Talaxian ship it was tractoring along with it. Kathryn steadied herself with a hand on Mike's shoulder. "Are they following?"

"Negative. However, they're issuing an order for our immediate arrest when and if we ever attempt to enter the Okingala Empire by any method."

"I can live with that," she smirked as she returned to her seat and pulled up a series of schematics on her personal display. They'd had to come to a full stop when Neelix's heavily damaged ship had threatened to lose its structural integrity, but their brief delay had given him enough time to correct the problem. It had also given that pompous bureaucrat a chance to threaten her with arrest. "Once we're convinced everything is going to stay in one piece over there, beam Mr. Paris back aboard. In the meantime, you have the bridge." She stood up, trying not to look too anxious to find her husband. She felt certain that Mike could hear her heart pounding in her chest. "I'm going to finish up my logs in the ready room and then head to my quarters."

"Tell him I said he did a great job, Admiral."

She grinned. "Tell him yourself. I don't plan to do a lot of talking."

She could hear Mike chuckling as the ready room doors closed behind her. She hurriedly completed her log on their rescue of Neelix's ship while her mind began to wind down from the adrenaline rush of battle. It had been nearly a year since she'd seen her husband, and during that time she'd repressed all but the most basic of emotions, as she had the last time she'd been in the Delta Quadrant. Except for a few brief moments of solitude when she'd cried in frustration and despair, she'd remained as detached as a Vulcan, often feeling as though she were watching events as if she were outside her body.

Chakotay would help her come to terms with the complex feelings she feared would overwhelm her. She was, of course, excited and joyful to be reunited with him. She paused, suddenly overcome with emotion. She'd always thought of him as her refuge, a friend to whom she could turn to find comfort and protection and sympathy. Yet he'd become so much more than that in the last seven years. She'd missed his calming presence and absolute devotion. Even when they'd argued, even when she'd been unreasonable and demanding, he'd always loved her, always accepted her, always believed in her. What had she done to deserve such loyalty? How could she ever repay him for all he'd done for her?

Minutes later, Kathryn nearly ran from the lift to the doorway to her quarters, stopping momentarily to catch her breath. When the doors opened, she discovered that dozens of candles illuminated the room, soft music was playing, and vases of peace roses filled the quarters. Normally Spartan and utilitarian, the rooms were a cozy and inviting haven.

She stepped in far enough for the doors to close behind her and stood waiting for her eyes to adjust to the dim light, amazed and moved by the welcome Chakotay had prepared for her. She spied his familiar silhouette leaning against the archway between the living area and the sleeping alcove and felt her heart leap in her chest.

"Chakotay," she breathed, her voice a whisper.

She had looked forward to this reunion for months. She'd imagined herself running and throwing herself into his arms. She'd seen herself dissolving into tears as he cradled her against his chest and soothed her with quiet words. She'd dreamed of his kisses and the sensation of his hands and his body on hers as they fell onto the bed and made slow, passionate love. She'd seen all this and more in her mind's eye, yet she found herself rooted to the floor, struck dumb and unable to move.

All the emotions of the last year threatened to emerge at once in the presence of this man whom she trusted so deeply. She felt love and admiration for him, yet other, deeply repressed feelings bubbled up to keep her from moving. She felt grief for the Dauntless' crew, fury at the Cardassian bastards who had attacked them, guilt for having survived the attack and for failing to prevent the attack in the first place, and weariness at her long exile in the Okingala Empire while she waited for rescue. She felt deep pain and sorrow at having hurt Chakotay, at having lost nearly a year of their lives together, at having left without a proper farewell.

Chakotay watched her face as she struggled to maintain control of the emotions that threatened to overwhelm. He knew immediately that at this moment she needed him to be a friend and advisor more than anything else. As much as he wanted to give her a bone-crunching hug, he quickly adjusted to her needs first. She always had been, and always would be, a Starfleet officer first and foremost, a fact he'd accepted years earlier, while they were still on Voyager. She would always put duty before her own wants and needs. How could she be joyful and happy when so many others died, when so many others would never rejoin their loved ones? She would have to come to terms with the disaster that had separated them before she could rejoice in their reunion.

He took a calming breath and faced the problem head on. "Kathryn, you did everything humanly possible to prevent the Cardassian attack," he said, knowing perfectly well what was haunting her. "Using the shuttle to deflect the Cardassian phaser fire was the only viable option available to you."

She looked down at her hands as tears filled her eyes. "Do you really think so?"

"I had very little to do on the trip out here but try to think of alternate strategies." He resisted the urge to go to her and embrace her. He had to be patient and keep his distance for now and let her think this through. "Using the shuttle was the best chance you had. The only one really."

She shook her head, refusing to be absolved from guilt by his explanation. "I should've found the Cardassian shuttle sooner. You told me to scan for it yourself."

"And you did scan for it. Didn't you?"

"Yes." Her voice was a whisper. "Not well enough, apparently."

"The shuttle's cloak was specifically designed to deflect Starfleet sensors." She didn't move, but she closed her eyes and angrily brushed away a tear that streamed down her cheek. "B'Elanna studied the scans Starfleet took of Dauntless entering the slipstream for nearly forty-eight hours before she could find any evidence of the shuttle, and she was using the computers at Starfleet Command. How long did it take you?"

"Too long." No excuse, sir. They were taught that at the academy, to offer no excuses for failure. But this wasn't the academy. He felt the heat of anger flair up and pushed it away. Would she listen to reason, or was she stubbornly going to blame herself for this disaster? He tried another angle.

"The sensor shadow from Dorvan V that I told you about? The one Ayala sent to me? It wasn't this shuttle."

Her head came up in surprise. She'd agonized over this mysterious scan for months, blaming herself for failing to follow up on the warning with enough diligence. "It wasn't? Are you sure?"

"A subspace echo, maybe. Maybe a malfunction." He shrugged. "Ayala saw it again in the same spot a month later. The same exact spot. He told me about it on our way out here."

"A subspace echo?" She narrowed her eyes, feeling the beginning of hope in her heart. Maybe she had done her best. "That's what it was?"

"Whatever it was, it wasn't the shuttle." He stepped toward her, wanting her to hear his next point. "The important thing is that the Cardassians ship got past the Federation's sensor nets along the demilitarized zone and into the very heart of the Federation without being detected. Those sensors are much more sensitive than Dauntless' were and were designed specifically to detect cloaked ships, yet they didn't find them. Aren't they to blame for this as much as anyone?"

The sadness on her face broke his heart. He could see her as she tried to accept his analysis, tried to see how the disaster didn't fall on her shoulders alone. "I keep seeing their faces, Chakotay. Sixty-three people, more than half of them from the Slipstream team. I've worked with most of them for the last six years. I know their husbands, their wives, their children. Connor and Bailey and L'plat and Raasten." Her hand came up to her mouth as she choked back a sob.

He finally approached her, taking her shoulders in his hands. "You didn't kill them, Kathryn. You put your life on the line to save them. The Cardassians killed them, not you."

"But I didn't save them, either. I failed them, Chakotay. I let them die."

The tears were spilling down her cheeks when he finally took her into his arms. "No. What happened was not your fault, and I won't let you blame yourself for it. No one blames you, Kathryn. You did everything you could to save them."

She buried her face in his neck and sobbed, letting her grief and sorrow finally find expression. "I'm the one who should've died," she cried. "I shouldn't be here with you. I shouldn't have another chance at happiness when so many good people died."

"What would they want you to do? They would want you to keep on living, to be happy again." Her tears were warm on his skin as they soaked through his shirt. "Get this out of your system, Kathryn. You need to mourn for them, to come to terms with what's happened. Only then can we move on."

She nodded and slipped her arms around him, sagging into him, suddenly fatigued. "Hold me."

Relieved that she'd finally accepted his advice, he picked her up and took her to the sofa, where he sat down and cradled her in his lap. She snuggled into him, her arms around his neck. "There's no real defense against an enemy who's willing to commit to a suicide attack. And it was suicide even if they failed. B'Elanna says that the cloaking device gave out deadly radiation. They wouldn't have lived another month."

Kathryn raised her head to look at him, the tears caught in her lashes glistening in the candlelight like stars. "Radiation poisoning?" The troubled look eased slightly as she looked into his eyes, her hand brushing his hair away from his tattoo, his face so handsome and dear to her. "Are you just saying this to make me feel better?"

"Are you kidding? Tell Admiral Kathryn Janeway a lie? I'm not that brave."

A smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. Talking to him about this made her feel so much better. She felt a rush of gratitude and love for this man who was so willing put his own feelings aside to listen to her. He'd always put her needs first, even on Voyager, and she was grateful to him for that. "You're very brave, I think, to bring a teeny tiny ship like this thirty thousand light years from home."

Her mood was changing. He could see that she'd relaxed slightly, that she had accepted, for now, at least some of what he'd told her. He held her a long while, letting her cry until she finally quieted, until he was sure she was ready to talk about more personal issues.

"I thought you were dead," he said, quietly. "And then, when I realized that you might have survived, I had to come get you. I took the ship because it was the only way to find you. I hope you understand that and forgive me for it."

She moved slightly closer, putting her face next to his until their foreheads nearly touched. She shivered to think of him sitting through her funeral, of the pain he must have felt. She reached up to brush away the tears than now streamed down his face. "I'm so sorry for what you've gone through. I'm sorry I hurt you."

"Nothing matters except that we're finally together." He brushed her lips with his own, groaning inwardly at the sweetness of the kiss, at the pure joy it brought him. "I love you, Kathryn."

"I love you, too." She closed her eyes and melted into him, her arms slipping around his neck as he pulled her closer. She sobbed in relief, burying her face in his shoulder as the hot tears once again flowed down her cheeks. Who else would have done this for her? Who else would have defied Starfleet and stolen the ship, taking her rescue into his own very capable hands? Not Richard, certainly, nor Mark. Justin, perhaps, if he'd lived. She pulled away slightly so she could look up at him, her face aglow with love and with admiration and with a playfulness that warmed his heart.

"You're my hero, Chakotay, and you're the smartest, bravest, kindest man I ever met." Her eyes twinkled with mischief. "In fact, when they send you to prison for stealing Arturis, I promise I'll visit you every chance I get."

He smiled at her joke, and the sight of his familiar dimples took Kathryn's breath away. "Have you forgotten that I have friends in high places?"

"Oh, really. For example?"

"I have a dear friend who's an admiral. She'll come to my defense."

"You sound awfully sure of yourself."

"I'm quite sure of myself, actually." He pushed a strand of hair out of her face and behind her ear, pausing to cup her cheek.

She turned her head to kiss his palm, her breath warm in his hand. "I've heard you're sleeping with her. Won't everyone think her opinion of you might be a little biased?"

He took her face in his hands and kissed her deeply. "I am sleeping with her, every chance I get. And hers is the only opinion that matters, as far as I'm concerned."

"I'd say you'd better do well in the sack then," she teased, sliding off of his lap onto on the sofa and pulling him toward her, stretching out beneath him.

"I've had no complaints so far." He looked down into her eyes, thrilled to see that the guilt and worry he'd seen there earlier had been replaced by a passion and desire that made his heart hammer in his chest.

Kathryn laughed and then closed her eyes, relishing the weight of his body on hers, the feel of his lips on her neck and shoulders. "Let's keep it that way, shall we?"

"My pleasure."

Then, there was no more need for words.

Tom Paris guided Arturis flawlessly through the intricate maze of asteroids toward the tiny Talaxian colony. Neelix had parked his ship- little more than a hulk-on a large asteroid for later retrieval and restoration. In the meantime, he and Dexa had beamed aboard Arturis for the final leg of their journey.

"So, where's the admiral?" Neelix asked from the back of the bridge. "I've wanted to thank her in person for rescuing us from the pirates."

"She's checked in with us regularly over the comm, but nobody's seen her or Chakotay in two days," Tom answered, giving him a knowing wink. "We're wondering if they plan to hibernate until we return to the Federation."

"You wouldn't be that lucky, Mr. Paris," Kathryn said as she and Chakotay emerged from the turbolift. She walked up to the pilot and put a hand on his shoulder. "I need to thank you, all of you, for helping Chakotay with his rescue plan. It was masterfully done and completed in the nick of time."

Tom blushed, uncharacteristically bashful. "You would've done the same for any one of us, Admiral."

"Yes," she said softly, giving his shoulder a squeeze, "Yes, I would have." She turned to Neelix and Dexa, who stood with Chakotay near the back of the bridge. "And you two," she said, her smile even wider. "How can I ever thank you for helping find us? Without your investigation into Dauntless' disappearance, everyone in the Federation would've thought Dee and I perished with the ship. You're our guardian angels in the Delta Quadrant."

Neelix practically glowed with pleasure. "I'm just sorry we didn't find you sooner."

Fran Delia interrupted them from her station at ops. "Admiral, there's an incoming message from the colony leader, Selax."

"On screen." She turned to face the front of the bridge, smiling at the Talaxian on the screen. "Selax, it's a pleasure to meet you. I'm Admiral Kathryn Janeway."

"Welcome to the colony, Admiral. I see that you've returned Neelix and Dexa to us unharmed."

"Yes. I wish I could say the same for Neelix's ship. However, we plan to stay around long enough to help him restore it before we return to the Alpha Quadrant."

"That's very kind of you, Admiral. We look forward to renewing our acquaintance with you and establishing a firmer connection between our peoples." He looked past her at Arturis' bridge. "It seems to me that with the successful test of the slipstream drive, we should be expecting more Starfleet vessels to visit the quadrant in the next few years."

Kathryn sat down in the command chair, grateful when Chakotay stepped behind her and put a comforting hand on her shoulder. "You're probably right," she agreed, "although I hope I've made my last trip."

Selax raised a hand. "Never say never, Admiral. We Talaxians consider it a jinx."

She put her hand over Chakotay's, thinking of how her life had become intertwined with the Delta Quadrant, how her fate seemed inexorably entangled with this distant region of space, so far from earth. But both of her trips here had been bittersweet at best, involving incredible losses and astonishing gains. She'd had enough of that kind of excitement to last a lifetime.

"You may be right," she agreed, glancing up at her husband. "My adventures here have taught me that I can be happy anywhere, as long as I bring the necessities of life with me."

Later that evening, once the colony's welcoming banquet had ended, Kathryn and Chakotay returned to the ship, exhausted and emotionally drained by their hosts' exuberant celebration. As they crawled into bed and were about to drift off to sleep, he suddenly remembered the comment she'd made earlier on the bridge. "Kathryn, I have a question to ask."

"Well, hurry up," she mumbled, snuggling into his side. "I'm almost asleep."

"You said you could be happy as long as you have the 'necessities' of life? Were you talking about replicators?"

She lifted her head to look at him, grinning. "You know what I meant. A ship and a crew are the real necessities out here, Chakotay. Having companionship and some hope of returning home makes for a much better experience."

"Companionship?" he teased, his eyes narrowing. "That includes a first officer, right?"

She smiled at him. "Fishing for a compliment, are we?"

"I'd like to think my companionship is necessary for your happiness."

"Chakotay, you are my happiness." She kissed him softly. "You're the best first officer I could wish for, but you're an even better husband. You're my safe harbor."

He chuckled, relaxing as she laid her head on his shoulder with a contented sigh. "That's what I am to you? A spaceport or something?"

"No, darling, you take me too literally." She thought a moment, barely able to keep her eyes open, her voice drowsy. "Actually, I think of you as my home. When we're together like this, it doesn't matter where we are in the galaxy, I'm at home and I'm happy."

His eyes misting, Chakotay kissed her forehead and cradled her against him, feeling her breath grow deep and regular as she drifted to sleep. "And you, Kathryn, are my guiding star."

* * *

A follow-up to this story, "Mirror Image," can be found elsewhere on this site. 


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